Tipping the Hourglass
by LiveToLie
Summary: It's been ten years since high school – since Cas told Dean how he felt and was rejected. Now he has a new life in Chicago, but he can't avoid that small Kansas town forever. Cas is home for the holidays and, low and behold, after his rental car breaks down on the side of the road, the first person he happens to meet up with is none other than a certain Dean Winchester. Destiel
1. Prologue

**Tipping the Hourglass**

_Prologue_

Senior year. Last day of school. 2003.

His last chance.

To be frank, he'd been considering this for the last two and a half years, ever since that fateful day when he and Dean Winchester had ended up as partners for their sophomore year's biology project. Dean hadn't been much help and Cas had done almost all the work, but that was neither here nor there at this point. Fact was, that was the first time Cas had been given the chance to talk privately with the football star. Generally, seeing as Cas was a geek, he didn't get to affiliate himself with such people.

In any case, Dean hadn't been that bad actually. Not horrible and jerkish like Cas had expected. He'd been upfront about the fact that he had no intention of helping with the project and had from there been generally civil. And been so ever since.

He was the only popular guy, in fact, that didn't outright bully Cas whenever they had the chance. Sure, he stood there and laughed occasionally, but he didn't actually participate, which, when you were the biggest loser in school, kind of said something.

Cas was aware that he wasn't the type people would generally want to be affiliated with. He was short, acne spotted, and, well, he should probably wash his hair more often. Add his healthy dose of his social inadequacies and, well, he could kind of understand. And, in the case of Dean, he was even forgiving.

Because at least Dean wasn't the one throwing things at him in the hallway. Sometimes, when no one else was around, he was even nice. In that gruff and tumble way that Dean could be nice.

But now things were different. They were seniors, graduating, and high school would soon be a forgotten memory. Which was why Cas wasn't going to hide the truth anymore. He was determined to be honest about his feelings, about Dean, and he wasn't going to be a coward.

Life was coming at him fast and he just… had to get it all off his chest.

Which was why, as he approached that big house on the corner of Kraven and East, he ran his hand nervously through his black hair. He'd tried to dress nice, because he knew people like Dean valued that sort of thing. He'd put on his best button-up and the pair of gray slacks he always wore to church.

For Dean, he was trying. He was trying his best.

Taking a deep breath, he climbed the few stairs that led up to the house before, hand shaking, pulling his fist upwards and knocking disjointedly on the door.

There was no turning back now.

Some few seconds later, he heard someone behind the wall and soon the door was opened to him. It wasn't Dean that answered however, but Sam, his younger brother. Tall already and he was only in middle school. While Cas as still hoping he was a late bloomer and would hit a growth spurt in college.

Those were the sorts of things people like Dean cared about, right?

"Uh, hey," Sam stated, looking Cas up and down. "Are you… here for Dean?" He cocked a skeptical brow, his young voice seeming odd coming out of such a tall body. But he was pretty gangly, so perhaps that made up for it.

"Uh, yes," Cas replied stiffly. "I just want to speak with him."

"Sure," Sam stepped aside. "He's upstairs." Nodding, Cas cursed the way his voice cracked before making his way towards the stairs. It was funny actually, how well he knew this big house from the few days he'd spent there after school, working on that biology project.

He knew Dean's room was on the right. The last door.

He tried to keep his breathing under control.

Reaching the correct door, he knocked, uncertain whether it would be appropriate to simply enter or not.

"C'min," Dean's deep voice echoed out to him. "You're early."

He was expecting someone else.

"I'm not… who you think I am," Cas said through the door, his stomach tying in knots. He didn't get an immediate response. Rather, he heard the sound of bedsprings, like someone was getting up, before the bedroom door was pulled open.

And there stood Dean.

He was a broad person, muscular, but Cas also found him to be absolutely beautiful. He had a more feminine face actually, model-like almost, and his hair was spiked up in the front like always. He sported a pair of old, faded jeans, which didn't hide how bow-legged he was, and a black t-shirt.

He had a curious look on his face.

"Cas?" he said his name with surprise, those green eyes looking him up and down. Cas, however, was momentarily struck remembering the fact that Dean had been the first one to ever call him that. Dean was notorious for giving nicknames to everyone and Cas had never heard his name the same after the shortened version had left those perfect lips. "What… what are you doing here?" He was suspicious.

"I know this is weird," Cas replied, his eyes darting to the side nervously. "I just needed to speak with you. Before graduation." He tried to put emotion into his voice, but failed. Instead, it came out flat and one-noted. Like always.

"Oh," Dean's eyebrows rose, surprise still plastered across his young face. Eventually he just shrugged however, not on guard against Cas's loserdom when no one else was around. "Okay," he stepped back. "Come in I guess."

And ever so slowly, Cas did. He couldn't hide the way his eyes darted around, his shoulders hunched with nerves. And had he been paying attention, he'd have seen the way an amused smirk had lifted one side of Dean's lips.

"So, what can I do for you?" Dean asked once Cas was all the way in. He closed the door behind them, green eyes trained on Cas as he made his way over to his desk and placed himself in the computer chair there. He gestured for Cas to sit down on the bed, which he did after a few second's deliberation.

"I didn't mean to intrude," Cas muttered, his hands folding in his lap nervously. Dean's smirk became a bigger grin.

"You're not," Dean assured easily. "I'm just waiting for some friends is all."

"I see…" Cas took a deep breath. "I'll try not to take up too much of your time then."

"Sure…" Dean actually chuckled a little then, but Cas didn't hear it over the sound of his anxiety.

"I came here because there's something I want to tell you," he started, his voice only somewhat shaky. "I've wanted to tell you for a long time actually." Dean raised his eyebrows questioningly. "And I figured that, since we're graduating, it couldn't hurt to be honest."

"Is this going to be one of those 'I hate you' speeches that the nerds always tell the jocks in the movies in the end to get some kind of revenge?" Dean was abruptly suspicious. "Because if it is, I'm so not cool with that."

"It's not," Cas assured quickly, his blue eyes wide as he shook his head. Dean nodded then, silent and seemingly content to let the conversation continue. "It's quite the opposite actually."

Those green eyes narrowed.

"Do you remember that biology project we did during sophomore year?"

"Sure…" Dean didn't understand where this was going.

"It started then and I… I just want you to know the truth. I don't want to hide it anymore." Cas took a deep, steadying breath, closing his eyes momentarily. He gathered his thoughts, put them in order, and was thankful that Dean remained silent while he did so.

But it didn't matter what words he considered, there was only one way to say it.

He just had to get it over with.

"I…" Cas opened his eyes again, catching Dean's. "I'm in love with you."

There, he'd said it.

And was given silence in return.

At first, it almost seemed like Dean hadn't understood what he'd said. Those big, pretty green eyes narrowed further, his mouth falling open slightly. He stared at Cas as if the words were taking extra long to sink into his skull. Like there was some kind of language barrier between them.

But it had to get through eventually.

Standing abruptly, Dean nearly knocked his chair backwards into the desk as he did. Cas jumped, but didn't get up from the bed. Rather, somewhat fearfully, he stared up at the muscular jock, uncertain what he should do or say.

"I'm not gay," Dean immediately claimed, though Cas couldn't say he'd expected anything more. He'd just wanted to be honest. One of those things that if he didn't get it off his chest before he left, he'd regret it forever.

"I know that," Cas replied quietly. "I just wanted-"

"Then why are you telling me this?!" Dean asked harshly, Cas nearly shying away from him. "Why are you even saying anything? You should have kept this to yourself!" Still his reaction didn't shock Cas. They'd grown up in a small Kansas town. People being uncomfortable with the thought of homosexuality wasn't exactly new.

"I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. I was jus-"

"Uncomfortable?!" Dean was extremely pale, those green eyes wide, and Cas wondered if perhaps he should have just forgotten the whole thing. "You think that you coming into my house and telling me that you're… What was even the point? I'm not… I'm not a _fag_ so I don't know what you thought you were accomplishing!"

"You're right," Cas agreed suddenly, Dean still visibly keeping his space. "I shouldn't have said anything." Because he was a "fag." A fag that lived in a small town with narrow-minded people that raised narrow-minded children. He'd known he'd have been hoping for the impossible if he'd considered that Dean would return his feelings, so he hadn't allowed himself that luxury. But he hadn't imagined it totally farfetched that the other boy would be open-minded.

Maybe it was just time he took his faggy self and left this podunk town.

He was going to make something of himself.

And he was never going to come back.

Dean and his family could keep their prejudices and their labels and their ignorance. First loves were never meant to be, especially when it came to people like him.

"I'll leave," Cas stood up suddenly. "I know we don't know each other that well, and you probably hate me for what I told you," Dean was still staring at him with those wide, anxious green eyes. "But you don't have to worry about it anymore. I just wanted to tell you to get it off my chest. I'm going to school and I'm never coming back, so we'll never see each other again.

"Don't worry about me dampening your life anymore with my faggy tendencies."

Pausing to stare at Dean for just a little longer, he eventually had to rip his gaze away and walk towards the door. And the whole way, he could feel his heart breaking. He'd known this would happen. That he'd be rejected. But still it hurt. Still it stabbed him all over and fisted his lungs until he felt like he'd never be able to breathe again.

Never be able to feel anything but the pain.

And so he left the Winchester house. He walked out Dean's door, down the stairs, and out into the sunlight. He went home, he planned his future, and he never turned his head over his shoulder to look back.

He never saw the way those green eyes watched him, sunk with confusion and apprehension.

How they flowed with doubt.


	2. Chapter 1: Turning Tables

**Tipping the Hourglass**

_Chapter 1: Turning Tables_

"So you haven't been home in ten years?" Balthazar asked as he tossed his friend a package of band-aids. Cas then shoved them into the bathroom related bag of his luggage, which was set up in an orderly fashion across his bed. "Don't you usually fly your parents up here to see you? Why the change now?" His accent was as thick as ever, but Cas had long since ceased having trouble understanding him. They'd been roommates since college after all, though they weren't anymore.

"My father had knee surgery recently," Cas replied flatly as he continued packing clothes into his largest suitcase. "It is unsafe for him to fly at the moment and my mother was not appreciative of the suggestion that we be apart for the holidays." He stared down at his prink sweater and ultimately decided it was unwise to take it with him. He set it off to the side.

"Hey!" Anna pointed at him accusingly from her spot sitting on his windowsill. "I bought you that sweater last year!" Cas glanced up, catching all her pretty face and red haired glory.

"If someone in Burr, Kansas," he glanced up at her and paused, to add effect, "saw me walking around in a pink sweater, I would no doubt be harassed or questioned." She "ohhhed" in understanding and didn't comment any further on the subject.

"That's a pretty small town, right?" Balthazar leaned forward in his chair and eyed Cas curiously. "It's hard to believe that our big, rich, successful Cas came from such a small, insignificant place." He grinned and Cas shrugged, supposing he could see the logic in being skeptical.

After all, how many of his classmates had made it out? Had made something of themselves? Had gone beyond what was expected?

"Well, I think your parents deserve some respect for giving you the chance to get out of there," Anna voiced his thoughts. "It must have been pretty expensive to send you to school in Chicago. I'm betting they're ahead of the game compared to a lot of people in that town."

"Perhaps," Cas shrugged, zipping up his suitcases one by one now that he'd finally determined that he'd packed everything.

"You sound doubtful," Balthazar laughed shortly.

"My parents were wealthier than others,"Cas confirmed. "But I wouldn't give them total credit for allowing me to, how do you say," he searched for the expression, "'spread my wings.'" Both Anna and Balthazar raised their eyebrows questioningly. "My father, is, after all, the pastor in a very small, secluded town."

Anna and Balthazar glanced quickly to each other, taking in his meaning immediately.

"I take it then," Balthazar laughed again, "that neither of your parents have met Michael then?"

"No, they haven't met me," they all looked to the door. A broad shouldered, smiling man in a clean-cut suit had walked in. He had chin length, wavy hair in the angelic color of copper-blonde. Truly, he was trim and fit in every way, and a shame to be gay, as Anna pointed out on many occasion. "But that's okay," he walked right in and he and Cas shared in a short, meaningless kiss. "I understand completely."

Cas eventually remembered to smile back, reminding himself that Michael needed assurance of his feelings. Because he wasn't naturally inclined to express himself.

"You're here," was all Cas said in response, pushing a moderate amount of surprise into his voice.

"I skipped out on my last meeting," Michael explained. "I'm not going to see you for almost three weeks. The least I can do is drive you to the airport." He continued to smile that gorgeous grin and Cas allowed the corners of his lips to pull up slightly, if only to comfort his boyfriend of three years.

"I guess my services are no longer needed then," Balthazar was one of those people that had a constant smirk on his face. He'd also been the one that was originally going to take Cas to the airport.

"Looks that way," Michael laughed, the attitude of the room light despite the fact that Cas would be departing within the next few hours. "We should probably be going though, if you're ready." And he was – just finished packing.

Cas nodded and with the help of Anna, Balthazar, and Michael, they heaved all his luggage down via elevator and outside the apartment complex. Waiting at the curb was Michael's small SUV, ready and waiting. Loading everything in, Cas said short farewells to his two best friends, promising that he'd call since they'd expressed interest in him doing so.

Placing himself in the passenger seat, Michael got in the driver's and together they headed off down the snow littered Chicago street.

Michael cleared his throat.

"You going to meet up with anyone from your high school years while you're there?" Cas knew that Michael had a knack for casual conversation; he didn't like silences, so the quieter of the two tried to find something of interest to say.

"No," Cas's voice was as flat as always. "I didn't have very many friends in High School. And I haven't kept in touch with any of the ones I did have."

"I guess I don't have to worry too much then," Michael replied, Cas glancing over at him curiously. He winked. "About you getting involved with old 'flames.'"

Cas cocked a skeptical brow. "There are no 'flames' in Burr, Kansas," he made perfectly clear. "Of that I'm absolutely certain." Michael kept grinning, supposing that Cas meant such a comment in more ways than one.

**oOo**

"Just got a call in," Bobby said over his shoulder as he placed the dirty old phone back on the wall. "Some poor shmuck with a rental car coming into town. Broke down I guess." His voice was as gruff as ever, his bearded face giving him a rather rough appearance. Only Dean knew better. Bobby was a lot of talk and air. Much gentler than he'd ever admit.

"Guess I better go save him then," Dean grinned from where he stood over the hood of an old grand prix. Reaching towards the fender, he grabbed up a rag he had sitting there before wiping his grease-covered hands. Yet despite how he rubbed, the stains wouldn't go. They never did. And neither did the callouses.

Such was his life he supposed.

"Take the new truck," Bobby issued as he walked up under a van he had suspended in the air. "Old one's been soundin' a bit rough lately and I think there's a storm movin' in. Last thing I need to do is go save you and this idjit in the middle of a blizzard."

"Yes Sir," Dean replied with a mock solute as he dropped his rag to the floor. Going over to the wall, he searched through the organized keys they had hanging there before finding the ones to the new tow truck. "New" meaning it was only five years old as opposed to fifteen. "I'll be back in a little while," he assured as he passed Bobby heading out, the older man not even bothering with a reply. He was back on task.

He picked up the piece of paper by the phone where his boss had written the location.

Glancing up at the sky as he headed out, Dean did take note of the heavy blue clouds moving in, an obvious sign of snow on the way. Hopefully he'd be able to get out there, get this guy, and be back in before it hit. Once it did though, he knew he'd be busy. Didn't matter how small or big the town was, or how many snows these people had been through. There were always the idiots that ended up stranded and created a royal pain for him and Bobby.

Walking across the parking lot, he detoured his way around the cars sitting there until he reached the tow truck. Climbing in without a second thought, he started it up and headed on out down the road.

He turned the radio to the channel he and Bobby always had it set to, the nearest classic rock station, before allowing himself to relax into the seat and set his mind on driving. Mindless driving. Because sometimes, a lot of the time, he just didn't want to think.

It made life easier to take.

He didn't know how many songs or commercials he went through, but eventually he found his way to the right place. Because ahead of him, sitting on the side of the road, was a clean, shining Nissan Altima. Waiting and ready to be towed out of what dirty snow and slush remained from the last storm. And off on the other side of the road, back to Dean as he backed the tow truck up to the car, was a single man. He had a phone held up to his ear and had looked back quickly when Dean had arrived, but other than that had remained focused on his conversation.

He looked like the typical business type. Dressed in a long trench coat, black slack, and similarly colored, shining dress shoes, he didn't exactly fit in with the Kansas countryside. The guy sported a stylish blue scarf for crying out loud. He was somewhat tall though, with mussed black hair. Probably only made so by the current situation.

Dean was _totally_ looking forward to the ride back into the city. He rolled his eyes.

Climbing out of the tow truck once he'd backed up correctly, he didn't bother waiting for the guy to be done on the phone before he started looking the car over. Technically, he wasn't allowed to diagnose whatever was wrong with it (because it was a rental), but seeing as the suit-guy already had the hood up, he figured it wouldn't hurt.

Dressed in his stained blue coveralls from work, he fit right into the scene, a typical greasy mechanic doing what he did best. Which was probably why the gentlemen with the phone didn't hesitate before coming over. Dean ignored him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, and was surprised when the silence stretched past comfortable levels.

Maybe this guy was a stuck up snob too. Well, he could keep his lips closed just as well as the rest of them.

Thus, the quiet continued. Dean was stubborn and, continuing to delve into the car, he made sure to wait until his customer spoke first.

Which, eventually, he did.

"I don't understand what happened," he said rather abruptly, Dean taken aback by the deepness of his voice. So not only was he a businessman, but apparently puberty had given him a healthy dose of man as well. Probably pretty popular with the ladies. "I was driving and then all of a sudden the gages were high. I shut it off after a moment, but I don't know what went wrong."

Didn't have any knowledge about cars though. That was a minus in Dean's book.

"Looks like the water levels are low," Dean explained, still closely examining the car. "Probably blew the engine."

"What?" the man sounded very serious. "But I… I didn't…"

"It's probably not your fault," Dean assured with a slight chuckle, finally pulling back out of the car as he wiped his hands on his pants. "It's the rental place that's responsible for this kind of stuff. I… wouldn't worry… about… it…"

Finally their eyes met.

Blue on green once again.

"Cas…?" It was too late, Dean couldn't stop the name from erupting between his lips. But those blue eyes – he'd know them anywhere. Even back in high school, when he'd watched his classmates bring him down, those blue eyes had shone through rebelliously. They knew things. So many things. Things Dead would never know, but they did.

Beyond him.

"Dean Winchester," Cas's voice, that deep, deep voice, came through again, shocking Dean all the same. All he said was his name however, which didn't exactly usurp the gracelessness of the situation. Yet still Dean continued to be out of control of his mouth.

"Son of bitch…" he murmured, somewhat gaping as he looked the man before him up and down. It was hard to believe this guy was Cas. He was so broad and tall and… swarthy. Granted, he wasn't as tall as Dean, but still.

"Excuse me?" Cas replied a few seconds later, Dean's head finally catching up with his lips.

"What?" He blinked. "Oh, no, not you," he covered hastily. "I was just… it's been a long time since I've seen you. Is all…" And here he was, his name plastered to his greasy coveralls. No further in life than he had been during high school. Yet Cas was wearing dress clothes driving a rental car.

Perfect.

"Ten years," Cas verified despite the fact that Dean didn't actually need the refresher course. But in bringing up the time gap, both their minds were immediately drawn back to the last time they'd seen each other. Up in Dean's bedroom.

It didn't help the situation any.

Dean cleared his throat.

"Well, look at you," he forced a slight, awkward smile onto his face. "All dressed up…" Damn, he was really nailing this one on the head.

Cas glanced down at his clothes. "Not really," and his eyes were back on those green ones. Yet with that unfortunate response, Dean was reminded of how socially inept Cas had been during high school. Never knowing or understanding public intricacies. He was guessing, at this point, that not much about that had changed.

"More dressed up than me," Dean added. "In any case."

"You're working," Cas stated. "It's only reasonable that you be dressed in the appropriate clothing mandatory of 'Bobby's Shop.'" He said it all with a completely straight face, Dean pursing his lips and taking the hit with only a slight altering of his expression.

"Right, of course." At least Cas hadn't brought up the fact that he was working at the same place he'd been during high school.

"It has changed however," Cas continued. "The uniform, since the last time I saw you."

Never mind.

"Yeah, well, what can I say," he cringe-grinned. "Bobby's always fashion forward."

The eyebrows above those blue eyes furrowed, Cas cocking his head to the side in a questioning manner. Dean shook his head.

"Well," he turned back towards the car, "I'm going to get this baby hooked up," he slammed the hood back down, "and then we can be on our way." Nodding once more to Cas, he distracted himself with hooking the car up to the tow truck, his thoughts running a million miles a minute. Cas, by contrast, stood to the side, staring blankly; totally unreadable.

Dean tried to come up with things they could talk about, because the drive back was at least forty-five minutes, but nothing aside from that day ten years ago was coming to mind. And, well, that was _quite_ out of the question.

And so, with the front end of the Nissan pulled up off the ground, Dean leaned in and made sure the rental was in neutral, which it hadn't been, before he turned back to Cas. He didn't say anything however, instead simply gesturing that it was time to go. Nodding once, the other man made it into the passenger side of the truck before Dean climbed in on the other side.

And so they set out on the Kansas road.

Dean held back sighing.

The first few minutes were absolutely silent, which honestly didn't bother Dean that much. Generally when he towed someone that also required a ride, they didn't say a whole lot of anything. He focused on driving and they stared out the window. But with Cas there was this obvious blanket of discomfort, which spurred Dean to try and cut through it.

"So, you here for the holidays then?" he asked suddenly. Despite how the sound of his voice startled himself however, Cas merely glanced slowly over, face totally empty. Dean didn't even know if he was considering the question. Maybe he still hated him. Dean wouldn't exactly blame him if he did.

"Yes," Cas replied a few moments later. And that was all he said.

"Normally come every year?" Because, if he did, then Dean was honestly surprised it'd taken ten years for them to bump into each other. Small town and everything.

"No," Cas was staring out the front windshield. "I normally fly my parents to Chicago. But my father had knee surgery a few weeks ago and couldn't make the trip." And he said it all with no emotion whatsoever. Which, aside from the deep voice, didn't surprise Dean at all.

"You live in Chicago then." Dean raised his eyebrows in approval only quickly. "I can see that. You really made it then," he flicked his gaze to Cas only quickly before going back to the road. "What do you do there?"

"I'm a graphic designer," Cas replied. "A web designer to be more accurate. I hold a senior position." Because apparently that last part was supposed to mean something, or so Dean figured.

"So… that's a pretty good job then, I gather…" Dean honestly had no idea.

"It's appropriate," Cas replied, considering the question only quickly in an attempt to dissect Dean's interest. "My annual salary is now nearing 80k, so I can't complain."

"Eighty…?!" Dean sputtered, his eyes bugging wide. "Eighty-thousand… wow." That last was murmured. He was lucky if he pulled in 20k a year. Let alone eighty. What was the most impressive to Dean however wasn't the number, but the fact that in ten short years, Cas had made it up to that much already. He must be good at what he does, or so Dean figured. "I bet a Nissan Altima isn't what you drive at home," he was trying to make a joke, lighten the mood maybe.

"No," Cas stated simply. "I'm currently leasing a CL-Class Coupe. A Mercedes-Benz." And all Dean could think was "Of course you are." It was probably a little cruel, both to himself and Cas, but the next thing that came to his mind was "how the mighty have fallen."

He couldn't think of anything to say after that. What was there to say? The kid he and his buddies had tormented and tortured all through high school was now the big man in town. Rich, put-together. And Dean was still a mechanic. What did he even say to this person? Especially after he'd opened himself up to Dean so poignantly…

There were no more words.

"It's blue," Cas eventually added, as if that should mean something, before he finally looked over at Dean. The driver of the vehicle chose to ignore the look however, pursing his lips and wondering if, should he have had the guts to catch that stare, he would see gloating.

He wouldn't blame him.

Cas, however, had no intention of rubbing his fortune in Dean's face. Rather, he was mostly just curious. He could see, because he'd spent a good chunk of the last ten years forcing himself to become accustomed to reading people's expressions, that Dean was uncomfortable. Which, he supposed, was justified. For both of them.

What he didn't understand, however, was why Dean Winchester, of all the people he'd gone to high school with, was the one towing his car into town. No, Dean hadn't been the smartest person in their class, but certainly not the dumbest either. And he had horrific amounts of charisma, which was half the battle (as Cas had painfully learned. And still was). He should, by all rights, be further along than this.

He just didn't get it.

Cas looked back to the window.

"You can ask you know," Dean started then, serious, and Cas whipped back around to stare at him. "Why I'm still working for Bobby. I know you want to. I can see it all over your face." He smirked slightly before focusing back on the road. Cas, however, was shocked that Dean had been able to read him so well. Michael, his friends, they were always going on about how they never knew what he was thinking. Which was why he'd learned to explain himself.

Dean had read him without any assistance however. Maybe he'd just been being more obvious than usual.

"Your place of work is none of my concern," Cas answered honestly. "I don't know you well enough to ask anything about it. Or so I've figured based on the situation." In other words, he may be curious, but he'd learned that there were certain questions he wasn't allowed to ask. Progress was progress Dean supposed.

"The answer wouldn't be that exciting anyway," Dean replied gruffly, Cas having glanced back to the window. "Nothing you'd want to know about." Because Cas had this great life now. Away from Kansas and his high school days. He didn't care about Dean anymore, not like he had at one time, apparently.

Only Dean had no idea how curious Cas suddenly was. Yet despite how he wanted to inquire, he kept reminding himself that it'd be rude to do so. This was his first time back in Burr in ten years. He wasn't going to sully it by falling back into his old habits. He wasn't that boy anymore. The one that didn't understand personal boundaries. He knew better.

He wouldn't ask.

And so, silence fell upon them.

After a few minutes, Dean reached forward and turned up the radio.

Nothing else was said for the remainder of the trip.

**oOo**

They pulled into Bobby's shop just as snow was beginning to fall. Towing the car around to the back, Dean didn't bother putting it anyplace special. The rental company would be out to pick it up within a few days. No point in worrying over it. Instead, jumping from the truck, he waited until Cas had done the same before gesturing his old classmate inside. Heading to the front counter, he started to make the charge calculations as Cas waited on the other side.

"So," Dean was looking through Bobby's cheat sheets and using a calculator since his boss still hadn't invested in a computer, "looks like your total is going to come to around $200." He glanced up at Cas, not terribly ashamed of charging him full price. Guy was loaded after all.

Not at all fazed by the money, Cas reached into his jacket pocket, presumably to pull out his wallet, and was struck wide-eyed a few moments later. He continued to fish around in his pocket. The he started to check all the others on his person.

Dean cocked a single brow.

"My wallet…" Cas murmured, finally looking up at Dean with those shocked blue eyes. "It's in my suitcase…"

"So go get it," Dean was assuming his stuff was in the car.

"All my luggage was lost on the flight here…"

Dean almost laughed. Almost. Mostly because if Cas had lost his luggage and had his car break down, well, he wasn't having a very fantastic day. He was hiding any distress or bad mood well however. Dean wouldn't have suspected.

"Wait," brows furrowed. "How did you rent a car if you don't have any money?" he honestly wasn't all that concerned about the charge. Not that Cas knew that.

"I had it pre-paid…" Cas explained blankly. "I only needed my ID." He then pulled his license out of his pocket and placed it on the counter. As well as a crumpled up twenty-dollar bill and a red and white mint candy. "This is all I have…"

"Well," Dean clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Looks like you're just going to have to pay for it the old fashioned way." Cas's eyes were wide, his mouth falling open ever so slowly. "Ever worked in a garage before? I think I've got a uniform that will fit you."

"But…" Cas looked honestly scared now and Dean had to purse his lips to stop himself from laughing. "I don't know anything about cars." He was actually going to do it. "I… I can't-"

"Dude, I'm kidding," Dean finally cleared up when he couldn't take that deer-in-the-headlights look anymore. Cas really _hadn't_ changed that much, at least not personality wise. He was just as easy as he'd ever been. "It's okay. I'm not going to make you into a grease monkey. Just, when you get your luggage back or whatever, come in and pay it." He raised his eyebrows warningly. "Which you better do, because I'm going out on a limb for you here."

"Right, of course," Cas assured quickly. "I'll come in as soon as I can." He was obviously relieved, his shoulders deflating, and Dean couldn't help smirking. "Thank you Dean."

"No problem," he assured. "It's not like I don't owe you or anything…" That last hadn't come out on purpose and as soon as it had, Dean clamped his mouth shut. Cas, by contrast, flicked his eyes to the side, the memory of their high school years tripping across both their brains.

Dean cleared his throat.

"Anyway, thank you Castiel for your business and please, whenever you have car trouble, think of Bobby's Shop first." He smiled slightly, bitterly.

"It's Cas," he was corrected right away. Dean had called him "Cas" earlier out of old habit, but Castiel was his full name. One that Dean had often times failed to use. It was because of him that, during their youths, everyone had addressed the awkward young man as such. "Everyone calls me Cas."

"Oh… okay…" Dean wasn't sure whether to be saddened that his nickname had stuck or flattered. Because when Cas had left, he would have had to tell other people to call him such.

Or maybe someone else had given him the same nickname.

"I'll take my leave now," Cas decided after a moment. "Thank you for your help and generosity. I'll be sure to pay you as soon as possible." Dean nodded, having nothing else to say on the matter, and Cas turned away. He headed towards the door. It was at about this time however that another dilemma occurred to both of them.

"So Cas," Dean addressed him from behind the counter. "How you planning on getting to… wherever it is you're going?"

"I was just wondering that myself," he replied, back still to Dean, who laughed silently to himself. Eventually Cas turned back and came to the counter however, apparently looking for some kind of solution.

"Here, how about this," Dean started after a second. "I'll give you a lift to wherever you're going. It can't be that far. And instead of paying me, you can just promise to take your wallet," he looked Cas up and down, "and a carryon on planes from now on, alright?" He just couldn't stop grinning.

"Fine," Cas gave in easily enough, sounding moderately irritated (probably because he was getting tired of being made fun of). He did it to himself though, or so Dean reasoned. After all, if the guy wasn't even going to think this far ahead, he was practically walking into the sarcasm.

But that was Cas.

"Just let me go tell Bobby," Dean stated before turning and heading through a door behind the counter, which no doubt led into the garage. Cas, allowing his irritation to simmer, reminded himself that he shouldn't get so worked up. This was Dean Winchester after all, who'd always had a knack for pressing all of Cas's buttons. Like he knew just what to say to get what was usually a levelheaded man irrational.

A few moments later, Dean reemerged and headed back out into the parking lot with Cas, where the snow had begun to fall heavily. The weather had arrived it would seem. The two ignored it however, Dean bulldozing across the parking lot and Cas following at his heels. His car, however, was easy, even for his old classmate, to locate.

"You're still driving the Impala," Cas observed in slight surprise as they approached. He remembered the car of course. It was part of the reason the entire female population of their high school had been infatuated with Dean. Attractive, worked part-time at Bobby's shop, and owned the coolest car in the school.

Everyone had known the Impala.

"Yup," Dean grinned as he rounded the driver's side, his hand sliding lovingly along the shining black body as he did. "Wouldn't give her up for anything." Cas was listening over the top of the car, staring at Dean as he spoke. It was for this reason that he saw the sadness that suddenly dropped across Dean's expression. Emotion that was gone just as quickly as it'd come before he caught Cas's eyes. "It was my father's after all."

With another of those award-winning grins, he ducked inside the car.

Pulling open the passenger side door, Cas was about to do the same, but paused just before he did. He stared down at the tan upholstery, considering exactly what he was about to do. This was the Impala. Dean Winchester's Impala. And he, Castiel, was just about to get inside it. To actually take a ride in it.

What did that even _mean_?

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Cas ignored the way his head overanalyzed and instead forced his body to sink down into the car. Slamming the door closed behind him, he tried to hide his discomfort, but knew he was failing as his blue eyes darted around nervously. As his nose took in the smell of old leather and Dean.

Dean Winchester's car.

"You okay?" His voice punctured Cas's senses and he glanced quickly upwards. To those pretty green eyes.

"Yes," he replied almost too quickly, taking a deep breath in order to calm his nerves. His high school nerves, which had come back out of nowhere to rear their ugly heads. "I just… never imagined I'd be riding in this car… is all…" It was very, very strange.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I get that." After all, though they didn't talk about it, there was no use denying the history they had. Were it ten years prior, Dean would have put himself in harm's way before he'd let Castiel Novak ride in his car. But… things changed.

People changed.

Putting the keys into the ignition, Dean didn't comment further on the subject. Instead, he asked Cas where they were going, to which he was told that they were heading to the Novak's place. He knew where that was – he'd tepeed it plenty of times in his younger days – and didn't inquire further.

Instead, as they backed out of his parking spot, he glanced over and watched Cas. The way he was examining the car. The leather interior; the old, worn creases. He ran his fingers along the lines, quite unaware that Dean was watching him within those short moments.

Driving pulled attention however and, punching the car into drive, Dean whipped it skillfully through the parking lot before turning it towards the road. And with a sudden desire, he glanced both ways down the street before punching the gas in just the right way to cause the tires to scream.

Squealing out of the shop, he was granted those wide, startled blue eyes as they peeled down the road. And only Bobby, who'd heard the car loudly escaping the shop, wondered why in the world Dean had decided to show off.

"Do you always drive so recklessly?" Cas asked almost immediately, defensively, and Dean laughed.

"Well, I figured, if you're getting the chance to ride in Dean Winchester's Impala," he was smirking. Again. "Then you might as well get the whole experience." Cas cast him an un-amused stare, apparently not appreciating the notion nearly as much as Dean.

The car surged onwards.

And took only minutes for them to reach Cas's old neighborhood. And even less to get to his parents' house. The luxuries of a small town.

Pulling up into the driveway of the quaint, white paneled, two story house, Dean came to a stop about halfway down the driveway. If there was to be an awkward silence where neither of them could decide when to get out, or whether to say something, it was interrupted when Naomi Novak appeared outside the front door.

She had a very curious look on her face, mostly because everyone knew that the black Impala belonged to Dean Winchester. She just couldn't figure out why it was sitting in her driveway. Thus, the two men exited without a single word to each other.

"Castiel!" His mother's voice echoed down across the yard. She didn't rush down to him in any kind of stereotypical motherly fashion however. No, Naomi was dignified. She walked briskly, dressed in a pair of slacks and a nice blouse, and smiled as she approached. She was, after all, the pastor's wife. "Oh, Castiel. I'm so glad you're here."

She gave him a brisk, meaningful hug and Dean leaned back against the front of his car, arms crossed over his chest.

"I hope you got towed safely," she stated, able to put the pieces together as to why Dean had been the one to bring him home. Thus her gaze went to the mechanic. "Thank you Dean, I appreciate you getting my son here in one piece. It _has_ been ten years since he's been home after all." She then looked almost pointedly, accusingly, at Cas.

"Anytime Mrs. Novak," Dean assured as he pushed himself up off his car. "Happy holidays." With that, he waved and nodded once to Cas, who returned the gesture as Dean climbed into his car. Soon he was backing out of the driveway, Naomi and Cas watching as he did.

"That poor boy," Naomi eventually made a point of saying as the Impala headed on down the road. At her comment however, Cas glanced down at her curiously. And, seeing as she'd raised him, she was able to gather what the expression meant and why he was using it.

"Dean Winchester," she explained, turning and heading back towards the house. Cas followed closely behind. "You probably didn't hear about it, since you'd just started school in Chicago. But, I think it was that November, John and Mary Winchester, his and Sam's parents-" she paused and turned to look at Cas again, the two of them standing on the porch. "You remember Sam?"

"Dean's younger brother, yes," he nodded.

"Well, they'd been going somewhere. It was terrible weather. In any case, there was an accident and they both perished." Cas's eyes popped. How had he not known about this? But he knew the answer to that. When he'd left, he'd made efforts not to have anything to do with Burr. And definitely not with Dean Winchester. "Dean, I guess, had been going to school across the state, but moved back when it happened.

"He quit school," she took a deep breath. "Came home and got his job back with Bobby. Had to take care of Sam." Cas's mouth fell open ever so slightly. "He supported his brother all through high school, even sent him off to college. From what I hear, Sam Winchester is in graduate school now, at Harvard. Going to be a lawyer.

"But Dean," she clicked her tongue, shaking her head as though disappointed. "Even after Sam moved out, he didn't go back. I don't know if he just didn't have the means or what. He's just been working at Bobby's. No school, nothing.

"It's a pity," she glanced up at Cas. "A bright boy like that, handed what he was. Maybe he just doesn't have the will to start over." She turned and headed towards the door. "A sad, sad ending, but everything happens for a reason…"

Cas, mouth still hanging open slightly, glanced back out to the road, where Dean had driven off. Eyebrows furrowed, he considered what his mother had just told him, the words echoing up and down his skull.

Guilt, a feeling he didn't understand and couldn't explain, dropped down on him. He just couldn't believe it, that something so horrible had happened. Because his mother was right, Dean had been headed in a good direction. He'd thought the same thing that very day.

But now he knew what had happened. Now he knew why.

Now he 'got it.'

Dean Winchester.

* * *

**A/N:** So here's chapter 1! Cas is well on his way and poor Dean appears to be stuck. But what's with this change in attitude in Dean? Ten years is quite a bit however. Who knows what truths he's had to face, or is still facing. Maybe Cas can help him with that *suggestive eyebrows* lol. In any case, hope you enjoyed. Next chapter should be fun. Maybe the boys will get past conversational pleasantries ^-^

Thank you and **leave a review please! So I can know what you all thought!**


	3. Chapter 2: No Strings

**Tipping the Hourglass**

_Chapter 2: No Strings_

"You'll never guess who I ran into today," Dean started, his cell phone held between his ear and shoulder. He was standing in his room, shucking off his coveralls in preparation for changing into something more comfortable and fixing himself some dinner.

"Who?" Sam asked on the other side of the line, Dean practically able to see how his little brother's eyebrows had furrowed.

"Castiel Novak," Dean didn't realize he was grinning.

"What? Really?!" Sam sounded just as astounded as Dean had been earlier that day, when he'd realized that the suited-up guy was Cas. "You mean, the same Castiel that..." he paused, "that told you he was _in love_ with you when you graduated?"

"One and the same," Dean verified, kicking his dirty uniform across the room.

"Wow…" Sam allowed a deep breath to leave his lungs. "You should apologize."

"What?"

"I'm serious," Sam countered. "You were kind of a dick to the poor guy." Dean pursed his lips, slipping off his old jeans before pulling up a pair of sweats. He decided to leave the dirty t-shirt. "I mean, think about it. Think about where we grew up. That couldn't have been easy to do."

"I know that," Dean snapped, heading out into his kitchen where a bacon and cheese sandwich was waiting on the counter for him. "But what am I supposed to say? 'Oh, hey Cas, by the way, remember when you told me you were in love with me, and I freaked out and called you a fag? Yeah, sorry about that.'"

"Um, yeah, that is what you say," Sam replied flatly and Dean rolled his eyes before sitting down at his old kitchen table. He began to unwrap his dinner. "I'm just saying, I know you feel guilty about it. So why not clear the air? The worst that can happen is that he not accept your apology."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean replied, not giving a straight answer one way or another on what he was going to do. Sam sighed and his older brother changed the subject. "So when do you think you're going to be in?"

"Uh, probably on Friday." It was currently Monday. "I have a whole bunch of papers to finish, so I can't leave earlier." He sounded guilty, so Dean quickly swooped in to assure him.

"That sounds fine," he started. "You do what you have to do. School always comes first, you know that."

Pause.

"You know," Sam cleared his throat. "It'd be nice if you could take some of your own advice." Dean frowned, lowering the sandwich he'd been about to bite into back to the table.

"Sammy, we've been over this," Dean didn't mean to growl. "I'm fine doing what I'm doing. Don't worry about me. You focus on you."

"You're not fine Dean," Sam hissed. "You can't work at Bobby's forever. If you'd just apply and-"

"Sam, just stop," Dean said firmly. "There's nothing wrong with what I'm doing now. Besides, I can't get in anywhere anyway. I couldn't even do that in high school. I was barely making it through community college when Mom and Dad died. So just… let it go."

"No," Sam replied stubbornly. "I know there's 'nothing wrong' with working for Bobby, but you're not giving yourself enough credit. I know you can-"

"Sam!" Dean said it a little louder than he'd originally anticipated. "Just drop it, alright?" The line fell silent, Dean staring down at his sandwich with pursed lips. There current conversation came up only every so often, usually around the time of the holidays. And every year, Dean had to put a stop to it. As he'd just done.

Sam sighed. "You should apologize to that Castiel guy," he resumed saying. "You'll feel better about it, I know."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll work on that," Dean replied, the tension leaving the conversation as they got back onto less controversial matters.

**oOo**

Thankful that everything had been safely intact inside his suitcases when the airport had dropped them at his parents' house, Cas continued his walk down the sidewalk. The weather the night before had left a fair amount of snow on the ground, but the storm hadn't been nearly as severe as everyone had expected. Already the roads were clear and the sidewalks shoveled. Thus, dressed in his black pea coat, yellow V-neck sweater, and black slacks with matching oxfords, he was barely hindered at all on his trip.

After all, though Dean had given him a ride the day before, the distance between his parents' house and Bobby's Shop was barely anything more than what Cas walked in Chicago on a regular basis. Maybe half an hour or so. His mother had offered him her car, but Cas needed the exercise.

And, honestly, a longer break from his parents. Yes, he loved them, but they, he and them, were very different from one another. There were many things they didn't know about his life. Things they'd never know. Why? Because Cas valued his relationship with his parents more than he did his desire for civil equality. He desperately wanted the latter, but he knew his parents lived in a small Kansas bubble. He wasn't about to burst that and destroy their little world as they knew it.

He was their only son after all.

Turning a corner, he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, thankful when he found his wallet safely there. Dean had been right, he'd been silly to pack his wallet in his luggage. He'd thought he'd been being safe, but now he saw how foolish that'd been. But he didn't fly that often, so he could forgive his own ignorance. He'd know better next time. And bring a carryon despite how hampering he found them.

People always brought those huge, rolling cases on board. Didn't they realize how much space that took up? Cas didn't understand the logic. If the case barely fit into the overhead bins, then it was too big. He'd just been trying to save space by refusing all together.

Spotting Bobby's Shop up ahead, Cas quickened his pace, his heart jumping for reasons he couldn't explain. Ignoring the sensation, he glanced down only quickly to make sure he was totally presentable before turning into the drive and heading across the parking lot towards the main building.

Reaching the front door, he pushed it in, about to head in without a second thought.

That was, until he saw that tall silhouette standing at the counter before him.

With a rush he hadn't expected, all his worst high school memories came flooding back. Striking across his vision with a viciousness he hadn't realized they possessed. And all of them, every single one, had the same thing in common. One person. One man.

Raphael.

The silhouette, his back to Cas, that stood before the counter.

It was suddenly hard to breathe.

"I know you'll do a good job with it," Raphael was saying to Dean, who was standing on the other side of the counter, his focus on a piece of paper he was filling out. "Can't say I'm happy I have to bring it in, but nothing I can do about that." His deep voice was resonating in a place inside Cas that he'd thought he'd closed up forever.

Something akin to fear started to rise up inside him, remnants from his youth.

"Yeah, it shouldn't be too big a deal," Dean replied, finally glancing up from his paperwork. "It should be done sometime…" he faltered only quickly, spotting Cas in the doorway behind Raphael, "in the next few days. I'll be sure to give you call. I just need you to sign this." He pushed the paperwork forward, handing Raphael a pen.

Distracted now looking down at the papers, Raphael wasn't paying attention to Dean as he glanced again to Cas. This time however, lips tight, Dean nodded his head to the left, flicking his eyes that way as well.

He was gesturing to something. He'd made it obvious enough.

Glancing to the side, Cas immediately recognized what Dean was gesturing towards. Wasting no time, he entered the building completely, making sure the door closed behind him before skirting his way to the side. There, on the other side of a stack of tires, was a slight nook. A corner where, when Cas stood behind it, no one else in the room could see him.

He let out a relieved sigh.

"There, that ought to do it," Raphael was saying, Cas listening and remaining as silent as humanly possible. He heard some papers being shuffled back across the counter.

"Looks good to me," Dean verified with a huff. "I'll call you if anything else comes up."

"Nah, don't bother," Raphael laughed lightly. "I trust you to do what needs to be done Dean, and not charge me a penny over." Apparently the two were still on good terms. Cas couldn't say he was surprised. They had been "best buds" during high school. "Hey, so did you hear?" Raphael changed the subject.

"Hear what?" Dean sounded only moderately interested.

"Apparently, Castiel Novak is back in town," Raphael explained, Cas's blood running cold. This town really was quite too, _too_ small. "He hasn't showed his face around here in years. Bet he hasn't changed a bit." Cas was pretty sure he sensed excitement in that speech. The ominous, nauseating kind. Why was it that it'd been ten years since high school and nothing had changed in Burr?

"I heard, yeah," Dean replied, his speech a little colder than it had been before. "Why do you ask?"

"I just wonder if we'll see him is all," Raphael replied easily, unaware of how Dean's attitude had changed. Cas too found he was surprised at the change in Dean, and comforted as well. "It'd be just like the good ole' days." An idea of which made Cas's eyes widen, in nerves spiking.

The "good ole' days" had never been "good" to him.

"Yeah, right," Dean replied, a forced laugh leaving his lips. He didn't comment further on the subject.

"Well, I'll see ya later Dean," there was a slamming noise, like Raphael had slapped his hand on the counter. "Keep an eye out for Cassie, alright? I'd like to see him again." Cas closed his eyes against the anxiety. He could also make out the sound of footsteps as well, Raphael heading towards the exit, and within a few moments the door to the building banged closed. Cas still didn't come out however, instead listening as another set of footsteps headed in the same direction. Slowly peeking out, he saw that it was Dean, dressed in his dirty coveralls. He was leaning against the door, watching out the window. A few moments later, he took a step back before turning in Cas's direction.

"He's gone," he verified coldly, Cas releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Coming out from behind the corner, he caught Dean's green eyes, surprised at the empathy imbedded inside them. Now his fear was gone however, which made him see the whole picture in a different light.

Cas frowned.

"That was ridiculous," he decided as he came fully out into the open, Dean crossing his arms over his chest as he listened. "It's been ten years. I shouldn't still be afraid of him." He was a grown man, not a helpless little boy anymore. Things like high school bullies shouldn't affect him at all.

"Yeah, you probably should," Dean replied seriously, the tone of his voice taking Cas somewhat aback. "Raphael is the same asshole he's always been. Don't think that just because _we_ matured, he did. Not everybody grows up." Cas could take his meaning. Raphael had done more than torment him when he was younger. He'd made a habit of beating on him whenever the situation had allowed. Apparently the same ideas still stood.

Thankfully, Cas had taken quite a few martial arts classes after he'd graduated, spurred by his history of getting beat on. So long as he could keep his high school nerves in check, then he should be able to at least stand a chance against Raphael.

"It's not just that either," Dean continued gruffly, walking across the room until he was behind the counter again. Cas watched him the whole way. "Raphael hasn't become any more tolerant since then either, so you'd do good to be careful. He seems to think he has reason enough to hate you already. Don't add to it."

"I don't understand," Cas admitted, going up to the counter. Dean had glanced up at him then, his lips pursing. It didn't matter how long he stared at Cas however, he was still going to have to explain more thoroughly.

"Dude, you're gay," Dean finally just stated, his outright reference causing Cas's eyes to flutter wider. He hadn't expected such a blatant comment from Dean. "_I_ know that, but he doesn't. You're not in Chicago anymore, so don't think you're invincible or protected or shit. Raphael will rip you apart." Dean decided not to comment on the way Cas was dressed despite the announcement it made about his sexuality, at least in Burr, Kansas. Because a V-neck sweater? Really? Plus, he didn't particularly want to explain away his observations of Cas's attire.

Nodding in understanding, Cas acknowledged what Dean was saying, supposing he was right. Yet, at the same time, something occurred to him. Something he'd never thought to consider before.

"You never told anyone," Cas observed quietly, Dean's green eyes blinking back at him.

He didn't have to say anything else however. Dean knew exactly what he was talking about. He just wasn't quite sure what he was going to say in response. Mostly because it was true. Ten years ago, when he'd still been an ignorant teenager, he'd made the decision not to tell anyone (other than Sam, which didn't count) what Cas had said to him. None of his friends, no one. He'd kept it to himself this whole time.

Which, when considering who he'd been all those years ago, was quite shocking.

"Of course not," Dean finally replied, though his voice was a little lower than he would have liked. He tried not to allow his embarrassment to leak through, to splash any pink across his cheeks. "That would have been a real shitty thing to do."

"That never stopped you before," Cas pointed out bluntly, making this conversation harder and harder for Dean. But Cas wasn't Sam, he couldn't tell him to shut up and change the subject just because it was getting a little personal. Especially if he wanted Cas to have a better opinion of him.

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged, trying to find something reasonable to draw his gaze and failing. "Things change." Not that quickly. Not right after Cas admitted his feelings to him as two seventeen year olds. If Dean had been a normal high school graduate, he'd have told all his friends what that "freak" Castiel had told him. Raphael would know.

Cas didn't understand. Which was obvious to Dean as those blue eyes stared into him, those dark eyebrows furrowing above.

Dean had to think of something to say.

"Look," he started firmly, forcing his eyes to harden. "I'm not delusional, alright? I know I was an ass to you in high school, probably a lot of other people too. That doesn't mean it's impossible to change. I'm sorry for what I did, which is why I didn't tell anyone." That last was a bit rushed, as if he was trying to convince himself, and Cas didn't entirely buy it. There just wasn't enough time for Dean to have learned his lesson, have "turned over a new leaf." Not between when Cas had told him he was in love with him and when he should have gossiped with his friends.

It wasn't adding up.

"That's not all," Dean continued after a moment of silence, though this time the tone of his voice had dropped considerably. He wasn't looking at Cas either. Actually, it was more like he was actively avoiding his gaze, which only perplexed Cas further.

"There's something else I want to apologize for." He couldn't believe Sam had talked him into this. "That day, when you… came up to my room right before graduation." It was obviously hard for him to get this out, Cas could see that. And it equally as uncomfortable for him to hear it. He honestly hadn't expected he and Dean Winchester would ever be talking about this again.

It'd been such a long time ago.

"What you said to me, it took a lot of guts," Dean continued, still unable to take Cas's gaze, which was probably better for both of them. "I was stupid, and young. And ignorant." He grinned bitterly. "And I reacted badly." Finally, taking a deep breath, Dean pulled those green eyes back up to meet Cas's blue. "I called your something I shouldn't have. I was… an asshole." Cas was listening with wide-open, shocked ears. "And I always wanted to say I'm sorry." Finally he couldn't hold back the embarrassment anymore. Forcing himself to glance back down at the counter again, he tried to hide the redness on his cheeks, but it was near impossible.

This was one of the un-manliest moments of his life, of that he was convinced.

And because he was too busy tripping over his own emasculating shame, he failed to see how Cas's shock slowly dissolved into soft understanding. He didn't see the way Cas's lips momentarily pulled into something akin to a smile before fading just as well. He didn't see any of it.

"It's alright," his deep voice couldn't be hidden from Dean's ears however. "I forgive you." His easy response did finally draw Dean's attention however. Whipping his gaze back up to Cas's, he couldn't hide his gape. His astonishment. "I forgave you as soon as you said it," Cas finished.

"What?" Dean shook his head slightly, not comprehending. "How can you say that? I was… horrible to you, then and in high school. I-"

"You never laid a hand on me Dean," Cas replied, his voice soft despite it's gravelly nature. "You never did anything."

"Exactly," Dean continued. "I never _did_ anything. I just…watched as Raphael beat the shit out of you." Cas's eyes fell to the counter. "As he… humiliated you. I could have stopped it." Which was true. He'd held the clout, the respect. He'd just been too afraid of losing his own reputation.

"It's okay Dean," Cas allowed that small, barely there smile to pull at his lips again. "I told you I forgave you."

"But why?" Dean was leaning forward intently, his palms flat against the counter as he searched Cas's eyes for answers. To help him understand. "You should hate me."

"I never hated you Dean," Cas's gaze fell to the side again. "I could never do that."

"Why not?" Dean asked almost harshly, his teeth gritting. This was obviously very important to him Cas realized; that was, comprehending the reasons. But Cas didn't really have any. It was what it was. But he knew Dean wouldn't be satisfied until he had an answer, perhaps to ease his guilt, so Cas tried to find him one.

"Because," Cas twitched his blue eyes back to Dean's. "You forgive your first love anything."

And Dean had nothing to say.

He was speechless. Literally, his lips were clamped shut and no words would come. Because how could he honestly respond to that? What could he possibly say that would match those words in any kind of way? Cas wasn't forgiving him because he'd had time to get over it, or because he understood that teenagers were idiots and not everyone could be judged by their pasts. No, none of that mattered. He was forgiving him unconditionally. No strings attached, nothing.

Guy was a fucking saint.

Or Dean's saint, in any case.

Cas could tell, however, that Dean would never be able to find anything so say. So he decided to take over the exchange. "I came to pay for the tow," he tried to change the subject, to get back to a place where Dean's voice would be. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet before removing his debit card. Sliding it across the counter, he did as much as he could to help Dean along with the process.

"Right," Dean eventually sputtered, glancing down at the card before taking it. Going to the register, it was clear he was still rather distracted as he ran it through, saying nothing as he did. And Cas stood at the counter, looking straight ahead and as blank as ever.

Dean tried to pull himself together.

"I'm glad my good faith wasn't wasted," he attempted a grin as he handed Cas's card back to him. "It went through without a problem."

"Of course it did," Cas replied, his voice not of arrogance, but merely as if he was stating the obvious. Dean couldn't help the small smirk that tugged across his lips.

"Well, here's your receipt," he handed him the small piece of paper. "Just in case something else goes awry." A reference to Cas's bad luck since he'd arrived in Kansas. Not that Cas probably caught the reference.

"Hopefully nothing will," was all he said. "Thank you, again, for all your help." Those blue were as penetrating as ever. "Happy holidays Dean."

"Yeah, same to you." And as Cas turned away, heading back out the door, a sudden thought struck Dean. Harder than he'd ever have anticipated.

Cas disappeared outside, and Dean realized there was a good chance he'd never see him again.

**oOo**

Cas hadn't expected to find any company present when he'd returned home. But as he walked through the door, his ears picked up on a familiar voice. One that rang from a time that was both far off, but apparently still haunting him.

Turning the corner into his old dining room, he saw his mother sitting at the end of the table. And next to her was a bearded, skinny man dressed in a worn button-up shirt.

Cas recognized him immediately as Chuck Shurley.

His best friend from high school.

"Castiel!" his mother spotted him as soon as he'd walked in. "You're back. She stood, smiling shortly as she glanced then back to Chuck. "Chuck just stopped by," he stood awkwardly to his feet. "He must have heard you were in town."

"Hello Chuck," Cas nodded to his old friend, who waved rather nervously, but that was generally his normal disposition, so Cas didn't think anything of it.

"Oh, you two haven't seen each other in so long," Naomi said. "I'm going to go take care of some church business. Why don't you two catch up?" Without another word, she turned and headed out of the room, Cas left to deal with the discomfort that came with talking to a friend he hadn't seen in the last ten years.

Not that it really mattered much. Most situations where Cas was involved were uncomfortable.

"Oh man, Castiel," Chuck rounded the table to stand directly before his old friend. They were about the same height now, which was new. Chuck had always been the taller one. Cas had been the skinny one. And Samandriel had been the gullible one. Though they'd all been pretty gullible.

"It's bee a long ti-"

Chuck came right up to him and gave him the tightest hug he'd had in a long time, Cas so surprised that he was unable to return the gesture before Chuck had backed away again.

"Look at you!" Chuck was smiling, looking him up and down. "Just look at you." He was obviously impressed. "You're so… mannish." It was an odd thing to say, but Chuck always said odd things, much like Cas himself, so the comment wasn't considered for any great length of time.

"Yes, I got taller after I left," Cas verified, reaching up to rub the scruff on his face. "And my facial hair came in." Chuck had also always been the hairy one, as was still apparent.

"Wow," he was shaking his head. "I just… can't believe it's you!" He grabbed Cas by the arms and shook him. "It's really you man! Ten years!"

"Yes, so it's been," Cas agreed, bodily taking Chuck by the arms and removing him from his person. "How did you know I was here?" He didn't say home. Kansas wasn't his home. Not anymore.

"Oh, you know, word travels fast," Chuck explained a fact that Cas was already too well aware of. "Samandriel was going to come see you too, but he doesn't get out of work for another few hours." Cas nodded. "I just can't believe it's really you! So how have you been?"

And Cas considered how he was supposed to sum up ten years in a single conversation.

"Fine." Yes, that was adequate.

"Fine…" Chuck repeated. "Well that's great," he slapped Cas on the arm, in a friendly way. "Really great." He paused. "I've been fine too. I work for the newspaper now, Chief editor." Cas nodded, eyebrows raised in surprised congratulations. "I make pretty good money. And I have a girlfriend. Met her over the internet…"

"I hear that's a good way to meet people nowadays," Cas offered.

"Yeah, it's been pretty great," Chuck licked his lips. "And Samandriel. He's a dentist now. Pretty good one too. Never steered me wrong." Chuck looked Cas up and down again. "Wow," he repeated. "I just can't believe it's you. You're just so… different…"

"Yes, that seems to be the general consensus since I've arrived," Cas replied.

"Oh yeah? Who else have you seen?"

"Just Dean Winchester." Chuck cocked a skeptical brow. "My rental car broke down and he had to tow me into town." Chuck nodded in understanding. "I think my appearance surprised him."

"Yeah, I'd hope so!" Chuck laughed. "After everything he and Raphael, and Zack, and Uriel, put us through. He better be surprised." Chuck looked awfully satisfied with himself. "How the mighty have fallen, huh?"

"Uh, yeah…" Cas replied, abruptly uncomfortable. "He wasn't that bad actually." Chuck's face dropped. "It has been ten years after all."

"I guess," Chuck shrugged. "I honestly haven't said two words to him, unless I'm taking my car in to get it fixed, since high school. And even then I usually end up working with Bobby."

"It's unfortunate he never went back to school," Cas observed.

"You think?" Chuck stated. "Guess I can't say I'm surprised you'd say that. You always were defending him back then. Had a soft spot for him." Chuck wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, mostly because he and Samandriel had been well aware of Cas's sexual orientation. And that he'd been rather infatuated with Dean.

"Please be careful," Cas issued quietly. "My mother is in the other room."

"Oh, right, right," Chuck made a zipping motion across his mouth. "Your secret is safe with me." And Cas had full confidence that it was. "You know," Chuck moved on with the discussion. "You should come by the pub tonight. Ellen is having her annual Christmas Party and Samandriel and I always go. It'll be fun."

Cas considered it.

"C'mon," Chuck continued to try and persuade him. "Someone always gets way too hammered and makes a fool of themselves. It'll be awesome, like back in high school, only we won't be the biggest losers in the room."

"Who will be then?"

"Whoever's drunkest," Chuck added with a smirk. "Besides, Dean is always there, if that sways your decision."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "It's been ten years Chuck. And I have a boyfriend," he said that last much more quietly. "So that's hardly a variable anymore." Which was true. He and Michael were very serious and committed. Dean was a long forgotten crush, one he'd just happened to have run into during the last few days.

He was straight anyway.

"Ah, c'mon, come anyway," Chuck continued. "You're Castiel, part of the loser group. Except now you're awesome! I want to show you off to all those jerks we went to school with."

Cas sighed. "I suppose I could make an appearance."

"Awesome!" Chuck smiled, unashamed of his shallow reasons for asking Cas to come. "Now, have you played Skyrim yet?"

"Skyrim?" Cas furrowed his eyebrows. "I gave up playing video games a long time ago."

"What?!" Chuck was highly offended. "Yeah, right! C'mon, we're going to go play some Skyrim."

"But, I-"

"_C'mon_!" Chuck wasn't going to take "no" for an answer. "We can go hang out at _my_ place. I'll show you my new and improved Magic card collection. You're going to be impressed, I know it."

And so Cas was forced back out into the snow.

**oOo**

"I don't understand why you're so worried about this," Sam was saying, his shaggy haired head visible on the old computer monitor sitting on Dean's desk. They were skyping, mostly because Dean was too busy rummaging through his closet to hold a phone. "You go to Ellen's party every year and you've never cared what you were wearing before."

"Yeah, well, I do this year," he defended without looking back to see his brother's exasperated expression. "Is it so bad that maybe I don't want to show up in a pair of holy jeans and a grease stained shirt?"

"Who're you trying to impress?"

"No one!" Dean replied a little too loudly. Grumbling to himself, he got down on his hands and knees as he began to rummage through the bottom drawer of his dresser. He tried to ignore the voice in the back of his head that pointed out how right Sam was. But it wasn't going so well, so instead he tried to create a logical rebuttal.

He'd stopped by the grocery store after work to pick up some milk, because his was getting chunky and he _needed_ cereal in the morning, when he'd run into Naomi Novak. She had, of course, gone on to thank him profusely for taking care of Cas, to which he'd replied in every way he should. And as casual conversation went, Naomi had eventually dropped the info that Chuck Shurley had told her that Castiel was going with him to Ellen's party at the pub.

But that wasn't why Dean was trying to look nice. Well, it was, but it also wasn't. He wasn't trying to "impress" Cas in the traditional sense. Rather, Cas was the only person in town that hadn't been privy to his generally dirted up duds. Was it so horrible that Dean, now that he wasn't in his uniform, wanted to show the only person that _didn't_ live in Burr that he wasn't always a filthy mudpuppy?

The logic was sound as far as he was concerned.

He growled in frustration as he threw another stained shirt across the room.

"Dean, whoever it is that you're trying to show off for, if they're really interested in you, they're not going to care what you're wearing," Sam sounded only half-invested in the conversation, his eyes distracted as he worked on a paper.

"I'm not interested in anyone!" Dean spat angrily, finally pulling out a shirt he thought was clean only to turn it over and find a huge oil splotch in the middle of it. He threw it at the wall. "I just… want to look nice, is that a crime?"

"No," he could practically hear Sam shrugging as he replied. "But it'd be helpful if you could tell me why so then maybe I could give you some better advice." Because he sounded so invested to begin with. "You trying to start something with Jo again?" Ellen's daughter. She'd be working the bar tonight.

"No, of course not," Dean replied. "We're just friends."

"Lisa?"

"No."

"Cassie?"

"What?!" He reminded himself that Sam wasn't referring to Cas. "No, not her either. Damn Sam, I haven't dated her since high school."

"I'm just trying to figure it out is all," Sam replied. "I mean, there's only so many girls in Burr after all." And though Dean couldn't see him, he'd glanced up then, his mouth falling open as if he'd been struck by an epiphany.

He didn't comment however.

"If you're trying to get someone's attention, then you need to show off your assets," Sam decided to take this from a new perspective. Rather, from the perspective that Dean was trying to impress someone _new_. "You're in good shape, so where a tighter t-shirt. Trust me, it's not going to matter if it's got a little bit of a stain on it." Dean had paused to listen to his little brother, more in-tune now that he was actually offering detailed advise.

"Don't try to where a super nice pair of pants. You look at your most natural when you're sticking to your roots. So where a pair of jeans that look good, that way you're keeping that rough style you wear so well. Throw on one of your over shirts and your typical boots and I promise you'll look fine. Just make sure you take off the over shirt eventually to show off your arms."

Yes, Dean nodded, because he had good arms.

"This is basically what I wear whenever I'm not working," Dean commented blandly.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "It's the most natural on you, which is why it looks best. You don't want to look like you're trying too hard. Then you just look desperate."

"I'm not desperate," Dean snapped.

"Yeah, whatever."

Ignoring Sam's attitude, Dean decided by default that he had to be right. Mostly because, at this point, he was pretty sure he didn't have much of a choice on what he wore because it was all he had. So, finding a pair of mediocre, faded jeans, he slipped them on, frowning shortly as he looked down at his bowlegs. He then grabbed up a simple black t-shirt, because then the oil stains were hardly visible, before pulling that on too. He finished up with his brown boots and a faded green over shirt.

Leaving Sam on the monitor, he then went to his small bathroom before turning on the lights above the cabinet and examining himself in the mirror. He had a bit of a five-o-clock shadow going on, which he decided might be a good thing. It hid his childhood scars.

So instead of shaving it off completely, he took his razor and trimmed up the edges before re-spiking his hair. Nodding in approval, he decided that he looked an appropriate amount of mussed up. Though not nearly as scruffy as Cas. Guy somehow managed to pull off looking like a mess and a genius all at the same time. Fricken Albert Einstein or something.

Leaving the bathroom, he went back to the computer and displayed himself for Sam to critique.

"Lookin' good," he nodded his approval. "You've got that rough and tumble country guy thing goin,' which I'm sure will impress." Impress a city person anyway, but Sam kept that to himself too.

"Alright, awesome," Dean slapped his hands together. "I'm gonna go then."

"Good luck," Sam said through the speakers, barely invested in the farewell. "You go get 'im tiger."

And as Dean walked out the door, he only paused for a second to consider what his little brother had said before shaking his head and deciding to ignore it.

* * *

**A/N:** Aw, what Cas said "always forgive your first love" or whatever. That was super sweet. So sweet that Dean couldn't talk through the sugar, lol. And now they're both headed to the same party where there will be drinks and things for everyone. What could possibly go wrong? XD

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed and please **read and leave a review**! Love for all!


	4. Chapter 3: Simmer Down

**Tipping the Hourglass**

_Chapter 3: Simmer Down_

Following Chuck in through the doors, Cas was immediately struck by the loud music echoing around the pub. It wasn't offensively loud, but mixed with the sound of people laughing and talking, it was almost overwhelming. Cas wasn't the partying type, he generally found such gatherings too hard to handle. Just too much to focus on. But Chuck had asked him to come, so he'd stay for at least a little while.

Besides, he did want to see Samandriel.

He didn't quite understand what Chuck thought he was going to accomplish by "showing" him off. Most of the people in the pub either didn't know him, didn't recognize him, or thought him of little consequence. It wasn't as though he was popular during high school, so he certainly wasn't going to be now.

In any case, he followed his old friend through the crowd. The pub was decorated in holiday spirit, with wreaths, lights, and garland. There was a sidewall set up with a catered snack table, the only free food in the house. And the first drink was free for everyone. It wasn't at though it was a party in the traditional sense, but it was an excuse for the drinkers of the community, and even those that weren't, to get together and "have a good time."

"I see Samandriel over there," Chuck was saying, drawing Cas's attention back his way. He spotted him as well, sitting at a table by himself and waving them over. He looked much the same as he had in high school, his face youthful and young. In fact, if Cas didn't know any better, he wouldn't say he looked a day over twenty.

Which would be in his favor were in not for the fact that with his youth, he also appeared absolutely childish at the same time. Though he'd never said it out loud, because he'd been afraid it would have made his friend uncomfortable, Cas had mentally begun labeling Samandriel with the term "adorkable," which he'd heard and thought referenced his friend quite nicely.

"Holy shit!" Samandriel swore as they finally reached his table, which was somewhat off to the side of the main event. "Castiel, look at you. You look so great!" He was staring his old friend up and down, blinking and looking completely shocked. "You're so much taller!"

"Yes," Cas agreed, Samandriel having an obviously surprised reaction to the sound of his voice, which was a considerable amount deeper. "It would appear that I was what my mother calls a 'late bloomer.'"

"Tch, yeah, that's a bit of an understatement," Samandriel laughed as Chuck and Cas took their seats. "Well I'm glad things worked out for you man. You deserved it." Because, even though Chuck and Samandriel had been bullied during school, none of it had been as bad as Cas had been. They'd tried to protect him, watch his back, as best they'd been able, but only so much was able to be done.

"My life is not the only one that has been fruitful," Cas started in his typical fashion. "You're a dentist now. That's great."

"Yeah," Samandriel nodded, smiling all the while. "I'm not the top gun in the practice, but it's still good. I'm actually saving up, gonna try and set up my own practice in a few years." He lowered his voice, leaning forward. "I don't agree with everything that happens under my current roof."

"A difference of opinion is natural," Cas replied, Samandriel glancing quickly over at Chuck.

"He looks different," he commented, "but he's still the same Castiel under there." They both laughed.

"I've changed more than my appearance," Cas put in somewhat defensively. "I'm much more sensitive to facial expression than I ever was before. And I don't ask nearly the inappropriate questions."

"At least he's aware of his faults," Chuck joked, Cas even managing a small smile once he realized that they were only kidding. Sort of. It was all said in humor, in any case.

"How is it?" Samandriel focused back on Cas. "Living in Chicago I mean?"

Cas furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully. "It's windy," he finally decided, his response not surprising either of his old friends in the least.

"We don't mean the weather Cas," Chuck corrected. "We mean your life there. You said earlier you had a boyfriend," Chuck and his suggestive eyebrows. "Tell us about him. You know, that kind of stuff."

"Michael and I have been together for three years," he started, his voice lower for fear of someone nearby overhearing. "We are quite content with each other."

"Castiel, elaborate," Samandriel urged.

"Michael is…" Cas shrugged. "He's taller than me. He works in advertising and we met because we work in the same building." What else did they want him to say? His life wasn't some kind of great adventure just because he lived in Chicago. Though he supposed, when he'd lived in Kansas, he'd imagined that it would be. Perhaps Chuck and Samandriel were still stuck under that umbrella. "You two should come and visit," Cas said suddenly. "Then you'd really know."

"I would totally be down for that," Chuck slapped the table, as if to add emphasis. "Although I don't know why we didn't come visit you before now. It was like you moved away and we just stopped talking."

"Yes, I noticed that as well," Cas replied.

"Well, we just won't let it happen when you leave this time," Samandriel decided, the three of them silently agreeing not to place blame for the fact that they'd grown apart. They'd all been equally at fault, or so it was easier to assume rather that actually investigate the situation.

"Hey, hey," Chuck was abruptly trying to get their attention. "Look who just walked in." Glancing over his shoulder, Cas watched as Dean Winchester entered the pub. He was alone, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and his leather jacket. It was then that Cas realized that, since he'd been home, he hadn't seen Dean outside anything other than his work uniform.

A rush of nostalgia hit him. No, the leather jacket wasn't Dean's old letterman, but it seemed to fit him better somehow. Made him look more mature. He still walked with that confident sway, Cas wondering, for the first time in ten years, if his bowlegs took away from his height. And decided equally that if it did, he liked it better that way. He liked the way Dean walked.

And, quite unaware of the fact, Cas's eyes traveled back up Dean's whole body, because he hadn't noticed that they'd gone down in the first place. When he finally reached his face again however, that face that was still chiseled so perfectly, he realized that those green eyes were looking back at him.

He wasn't in high school anymore, but his breath caught like it always had when Dean would happen to look at him. He tried to ignore the sensation, to remind himself that he was twenty-seven years old and not a hormonal teenager anymore, but still it couldn't be stopped. And then, something incredible happened.

Dean Winchester smirked at him. It wasn't the polite smirk he'd used when they'd been dealing with the car, there was nothing polite about it. He was smirking because he chose to, not because he was obligated to, and that had never happened to Cas before.

That Dean Winchester had bestowed such an expression on him.

"Quick, get the defibrillators, we're losing him, we're losing him!" Chuck's voice was heard somewhere in the back of Cas's head, but he hardly registered it. He was too busy watching Dean walk across the pub. And only stopped staring when he disappeared behind a group of people.

"This really is like old times," Samandriel joked as Cas slowly turned back to face them again, still somewhat dazed. He hadn't expected such a thing, that Dean would actually acknowledge him in public. Sure he was nice if private, but he'd actually smiled at him. In a casual situation.

Never in a thousand years had he considered that to be possible.

"Castiel, hey," Chuck was snapping his fingers in front of his nose, pulling Cas back to the present. "You've got a boyfriend, remember? Quit ogling Winchester."

"He smiled at me," he stated rather dumbly.

"He's really not so bad," Samandriel argued. "Now, anyway. He's worked on my car a few times and I've never had a problem." Chuck still didn't appear totally convinced, the two seeming to bypass the fact that Cas was obviously still somewhat dazed. Which was actually pretty normal. He'd been dazed a lot back in the day.

"I don't know," Chuck scrunched up his nose. "He still hangs out with Raphael and them sometimes. And I know those guys are still total douche-nuggets."

"Yeah, that's true," Samandriel frowned.

"In any case, Castiel, you need to stop thinking about him," Chuck looked firmly back at his old friend, who was finally beginning to come out of the haze. "Just because Dean is a little nicer doesn't make him any less straight, so just calm down."

Cas pursed his lips. "I know that," he countered. "I have a boyfriend."

"Yeah, because that was real obvious a few seconds ago," Samandriel rolled his eyes. "Why don't you just send 'Michael' a pic of Dean and say 'you'll only be good enough when you look like this.'" Cas didn't appreciate the joke, but he didn't say anything on either. Mostly because the two of them were right. He was letting his old feelings for Dean get the better of him.

It _was_ a good thing Dean was straight.

"In any case, why are we not drinking?!" Chuck asked rather robustly. "I must be tipsy by the end of the hour!" He had a very firm look on his face. "Now, who will fetch the beverages?!" He pushed his fist forward. "Hands in men!"

Doing the same, both Samandriel and Cas put their fists in, Chuck counting to three before they made their play. Samandriel put out scissors where Chuck and Cas did paper, so then the two of them went a round. Unfortunately, Chuck used paper and again and Cas went for rock, which meant he'd lost.

"Go chosen slave!" Chuck continued theatrically. "Fetch me my sustenance! And do not be distracted by sirens in red!" His voice lowered. "Or in your case, men in old jeans and leather jackets."

"Shut up," Cas replied as he rose from his seat, Chuck looking far too aghast in response to actually be offended. Ignoring their immature instigations, he turned and headed into the crowd, pushing his way towards the bar.

Thankfully, he didn't run into anyone he'd known and was able to make it there without any interruption. Finding himself an empty spot at the bar, he waited patiently for Ellen or Jo to notice him, which could take a few minutes considering how busy they were. But he was patient and wasn't going to pressure them any further than they already were. Instead, he focused on the bottles sitting on the shelves behind them, considering what he should order. Probably just beers he figured. He wasn't a very big fan of beer, but he also wasn't a big fan of drinking in general.

So intent on his thoughts, Cas didn't even notice when the man that had come up beside him said something. He said something twice actually, but Cas still wasn't paying attention. It wasn't until a hand was waved in front of his face that he blinked and glanced over.

"Not already drunk are you?" Dean asked, holding up his own beer and taking a drink.

"No, I was thinking," Cas verified, reminding himself of three things. He wasn't in high school anymore. Dean was straight. And Michael.

"Well you should be," Dean said. "Ordering alcohol is a very important decision. Order the wrong kind and it could change your whole life. You should consider it longer, maybe a few days or so." Halfway through his spiel, Cas had realized he was making fun of him and had narrowed his eyes into a slight glare.

Dean only smirked however, completely unaffected.

"I'm sorry I prefer to make all my decisions carefully," was his sassy reply, or so Dean interpreted it as. "What's the point of spending money on a drink if you're not even going to like it?"

"Well, there's the whole drunk part," Dean explained. "You know, drink it anyway and still get the whole effect."

"I have no intention of getting drunk," Cas replied, unable to pull his gaze away from those green eyes. "I have a very high tolerance actually, despite my dislike for most alcoholic beverages."

"That sounds like a challenge."

"It's not."

"If you say so," Dean looked away, obviously not convinced as he took another sip from his beer. Cas pursed his lips then, not appreciating the disbelieving attitude. After all, he could drink if he wanted to. Michael didn't like drinking much and never had he, but that didn't mean he couldn't. Maybe it _was_ a challenge.

"I could drink you under the table," Cas finally said, using an expression he didn't quite understand, but knew got the point across. Dean paused then, glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes before turning to face him fully again. He appeared skeptical, still smirking.

"You could drink _me_ under the table?" He laughed shortly, Cas narrowing his eyes further. "Drinking was, and still can be, a recreational sport for me. You wouldn't stand a chance."

"Is _that_ a challenge?"

"Damn straight it is."

Cas whispered, "Too bad I'm not."

Dean's grin became a smile as he laughed again.

"You're on."

"Jo!" Dean slammed his hand down on the bar, a few of the people around him glancing over curiously. "Two shots of whatever you've got." Jo cocked only one of her pretty eyebrows skeptically before walking over to them. Crossing her arms over her chest, he stared at Dean quizzically.

"You don't look like you're up to any kind of good Dean Winchester," she stated, apparently not realizing that Cas was the one who was in on this whole drinking thing. Why would she? He was sitting there in a yellow V-neck sweater. He wasn't exactly the type of person Dean usually drank with.

"Actually, you know what? Just leave the shot glasses and the whole bottle. We'll take care of it." He didn't gesture to Cas, so she was still unaware that he was involved. She retrieved a bottle and two shots for Dean anyway however, saying she'd put it on his tab before she returned to work.

"Just regular, run-of-the-mill vodka," Dean started as he unscrewed the top and poured the appropriate amount into each tiny glass. He then pushed one towards Cas. "Now, feel free to back out. I won't think less of you for it."

"Shut up," Cas said for the second time that night before taking his shot and downing it in one go. He then set it back on the bar and raised his eyebrows expectantly. And so, with that ever-present smirk, Dean nodded once before downing his own drink and setting it back on the counter.

He poured another for each of them. They shot them at the same time.

He filled them a third time.

"Now don't go overboard there Cas," Dean started to say. "Don't want to have you puking all over your fancy Chicago clothes." He grinned, those white teeth flashing easily in the light.

"Don't worry about that," Cas tried to think of something witty to say as fast as possible. "If I throw up anywhere, it's not going to be on _my_ clothes." He cocked a knowing brow at Dean, whose smile became a frown.

"I'll make sure I'm out of the way." He took it as a threat, just as Cas had intended, before the two of them downed another shot.

They both took a deep breath as Dean poured a forth shot for each of them.

"You know, you keep trying to convince me to quit," Cas started, "but I should extend the same offer to you." He raised his glass and nodded once, still invested in that green stare. "Do say so when it gets to be too much for you."

"Won't happen," Dean assured as he downed the current shot. Cas followed quickly after.

A fifth was poured.

It was drank without a single word.

Onto the sixth.

"Okay, I'm a _little_ impressed," Dean admitted. "I honestly hadn't expected you to make it this far."

"I'm full of surprises," Cas assured, making sure he was looking directly at Dean as he said it. And in response, Dean raised his eyebrows, but couldn't find anything to say. So Cas drank, which spurred his companion to do the same.

A seventh.

"Okay, that's enough," Jo finally intervened, taking the bottle off the bar. "I've been watching you two this whole time and you haven't even given the alcohol time to sink in, so I think it's time you took a tiny break. I don't want to be babysitting you all night." Dean looked about to object, Cas sipping the seventh shot clean as he watched the exchange. Dean followed quickly after.

Watching Jo walk away, Cas wondered fleetingly if she recognized him. He imagined not however, mostly because the last ten years had affected him considerably. That was, made him considerably more _awesome_. If it hadn't been for his mom, Chuck and Samandriel wouldn't have recognized him either.

Dean had just been lucky.

"I have to go," Cas decided suddenly, looking to Dean, who'd been staring at him ever since Jo had left. "I have _friends_ that are waiting for me." And with that, he didn't even bother giving Dean the chance to respond before pushing himself from his seat. And as he did, the whole room seemed to turn on him.

Stumbling to the side, Cas nearly bulldozed into a couple sitting beside him. Before he could however, a pair of strong arms held him back, steadying him until the oddly wavy room had righted itself.

"You almost fell over," Dean's voice drew his eyes around and Cas, gaze narrowed, turned to see that it was none other who had caught him. "You think maybe you had too much?" He was smiling like an idiot however, so Cas decided his question was a little hypocritical.

"No," Cas replied, pushing himself a step away from Dean. "I'm fine," he assured, concentrating as best he could on keeping the room upright. "I'm going now," he raised his finger, as if to gesture in the direction he was headed, and thought better of it at the last moment. Reaching out, he booped Dean on the nose first, because it had seemed like a good idea. "I'll see you later." And with that, he turned and headed back the way he'd thought he'd come.

Dean watched him the whole way.

Luckily, he was able to locate Chuck and Samandriel, whose impatient looks evaporated into confusion as Cas stumbled back into his seat. Mouths hanging open slightly, they glanced only quickly to each other before focusing back on their old friend.

"Are you…" Chuck pushed the subject hesitantly. "Are you drunk?"

"No!" Cas objected a little too loudly, his two friends startling slightly before looks of disbelief dropped across their faces. Cas rethought his strategy. "Yes!" He admitted, but he wasn't sure if that was true either. "Maybe…" Yeah, that sounded better.

"He was gone for like fifteen minutes," Samandriel looked to Chuck in disbelief. "Apparently we shouldn't have let him go off on his own."

"I'm fine!" Cas objected to their conversation. "Don't worry about it. I was just… just…" Wow, the room was really starting to get fuzzy. Maybe he needed glasses. "I need to see an ophthalmologist." He blinked a few times.

"I think you need some water," Chuck decided before mouthing a silent "wow" to Samandriel. "How much did you drink exactly?"

"Vodka!" Cas was trying to answer the question. "Seven… seven I think."

"Seven shots?!" Chuck was really gaping now. "In fifteen minutes?! Why would you do that?!" It was a rather huge amount actually, especially in such a short amount of time. And seeing as neither of the boys had seen Cas drunk before, they weren't exactly sure what to do with him.

"I had to," Cas argued irritably. "He challenged me."

"Who?" Samandriel furrowed his eyebrows.

"Dean Winchester."

"Dean Winchester?!" Chuck was still overreacting.

"I won," Cas decided that it didn't matter if it was a lie or not because neither of his friends were going to know the truth. Probably. Besides, they should trust him. He was a very trustworthy person. "I'm trustworthy."

"Not right now you're not," Samandriel finally allowed a laugh to leave his lips. "Right now you're just trashed."

"Yeah, I never thought I'd see little Cassie so messed up," a deep voice said behind them and Cas scowled. Chuck and Samnadriel's eyes went wide, their mouths gaping in surprise as their cheeks paled, but Cas didn't get the message. Instead, he turned his head over his shoulder to get a better look at Raphael.

"Go away," he eventually said, looking at his old nemesis with as much loathing as he could muster.

"Feisty," Raphael commented with a short smirk, Cas noting that Dean's was much friendlier. He liked it when Dean smiled. He had a very good smile. It took up a very large amount of his face. Dean was really pretty all around actually. He should tell him. Everyone enjoyed a compliment. "So Cassie, looks like life has treated you pretty well since high school."

"Don't call me that," Cas dragged his attention back to Raphael. "My name is Castiel. Learn it." Both Chuck and Samandriel were starting to get nervous now. Cas was being pretty gutsy in his drunken state and both Uriel and Zack had come in with Raphael. The three ex-nerds wouldn't stand a chance against them.

"You think that just because you live in a big, fancy city now, you can tell me what to do?"

"I think I can tell you what to do," Cas stood then, slightly wobbly on his feet, and looked Raphael straight in the eyes, "because you're an asshole." He then had the audacity to jab Raphael in the chest with his finger, Chuck and Samandriel cringing and beginning to panic. They had no idea what they were supposed to do. This was why they stayed on the sidelines most of the time.

Raphael's smirk had vanished by then and had since been replaced by a deep-set frown. Which was part of the reason why Chuck and Samandriel were so nervous. Even back in high school, Raphael had had a bad temper. And they knew, based on other fights he'd been in, that it hadn't improved any since.

"Watch is Cassie," he practically threatened. "I don't hesitate to hit drunk people." And probably didn't hesitate in hitting women either, or kids. At least, that was what Cas figured. And he had half a mind to say as much, but was interrupted before he could.

"Let's, _everybody_, just simmer down," Dean had come up on the confrontation, only a few other more observant people in the pub even realizing that something was going on. "This is supposed to be a party, so let's not get too worked up." He honestly didn't look to be in much better shape than Cas (maybe able to stand a little straighter) and everyone now looking at him could tell.

"Damn Dean," Raphael's temper was held momentarily at bay as he took in his old high school buddy. "Got started without me I see." Chuck and Samandriel didn't comment on that, and hoped that Cas wouldn't either. He looked pretty preoccupied with trying to find his seat again however.

"Yes… I did," Dean eventually got out. And apparently didn't have much else to say on the subject because he then just continued to stare at Raphael. He did waver a little on his feet however.

"I think you need to go sit down man," Raphael issued, clapping Dean on the shoulder in a firm but friendly way. "You're about to fall over." He was honestly rather surprised. He hadn't seen Dean this drunk in years. Rather, Dean rarely _got_ drunk at all anymore.

"I'm fine here," Dean decided simply, his lips pursing and his eyes suddenly sharp. The expression lasted only a moment however before it'd faded back behind the drunkenness. In any case, Dean wasn't totally gone, and was in control to a certain extent. For the time being anyway. "Actually," he was still intent on Raphael, "why don't we go get something to drink. You know, celebrate the season." Raphael had glanced back at Cas, who'd finally made it into his chair and was examining his hand. "Don't worry about them," Dean waved off the three at the table flippantly and Raphael turned to him again. "They're not worth it anyway."

Yes, Chuck decided. Dean was in far better control than he was letting on.

Raphael appeared indecisive at first, wanting terribly to take advantage of how completely out of it his old victim was, but eventually decided that disagreeing with Dean would reflect poorly on him. Nodding slowly, he cast the group of three an immature warning glance before turning away. Together with Dean and his posse, he headed toward the other side of the pub.

Chuck and Samandriel released relieved sighs.

"He left," Cas observed too late as he looked over his shoulder again. "I could have taken him." He returned to the task of examining his hand.

**oOo**

"What are we supposed to do with him?" Chuck asked nervously as they left the pub. Cas was stumbling along between them, the two men keeping a close eye on him. "We can't take him home."

"Why not?" Samandriel asked. "He's an adult."

"Have you met Castiel's mom?" Chuck hissed. "It doesn't matter how old he is, she'd still skin him alive for coming home drunk. He's supposed to be the perfect angel of a son, remember!"

"Okay, okay," Samandriel tried to brainstorm. "We'll just take him back to one of our places and let him sleep it off." Chuck looked about to object. "And we'll call Mrs. Novak and tell her he was hanging out with us, but fell asleep, and we forgot to call and tell her. You know, seeing as we're _adults_ and everything!" He hadn't meant to spit that last quite so viciously.

"Okay, so who's place is he staying at?" Chuck asked, catching Cas as he wobbled to the side.

"You know guys," Cas finally found his voice. "I may be drunk, but that doesn't mean I can't hear you…" And neither of his old friends decided that anything he had to say was of any relevance.

"He needs to go to your place," Samandriel decided. "I have to get up early to work on a root canal and-"

"Samandriel," Chuck interrupted him, his voice having dropped considerably as he stared across the parking lot. "Look over there." He pointed and, eyebrows furrowed, Samandriel glanced around until he noticed the source of Chuck's attention.

"Are you serious…" his shoulders dropped. "Can't we just leave him?" He looked again to Chuck.

"No…?" Chuck didn't sound certain. "I mean, he did, like, save us from Raphael. I think." They still weren't entirely sure.

Eyes glancing back over, the two watched as Dean Winchester stumbled around under a street lamp, apparently trying to find the door to the driver's side of his car. And when he finally did, he pulled his keys out of his pocket before promptly dropping them. He then got down on all fours to search.

Chuck and Samandriel sighed.

"I'll go get him," Samandriel decided as he started to walk away. "You keep an eye on Castiel." With that, he hunkered over to Dean, who was grumbling under his breath while reaching under his car for his keys. Only problem was, they were sitting behind him. Bending down, Samandriel picked them up before clearing his throat.

"Hm, what?" Dean slowly pulled his head over his shoulder to glance up at him. He then seemed to remember he was on the ground, "I was lookin' for my keys."

"I know," Samandriel replied. "I found them," he jingled them for Dean to see, who's expression didn't change from his idiotic gape as he looked up at him. "Now c'mon, you're in no state to drive."

"You can' tell me what-a-do," Dean replied rebelliously. "I can drive all-night-long."

"No," Samandriel stated firmly. "C'mon, Chuck and I will take you home." Dean was trying to get up now, using his car for leverage. It was working moderately well. He slipped once.

"Someone'll steal my car," he added as he finally got to his feet, wavering back and forth dangerously. Samandriel wasn't sure if he'd try to catch him. After all, whether Castiel liked him or not, whether he'd defended them or not, this was still Dean Winchester. Still the guy that helped torment them all through high school.

"No one's going to steal your car," Samandriel assured, which was probably true. No one would be able to get away with it. Everyone in town knew the Impala was Dean's. There'd be no point in laying a hand on it. "C'mon, we need to get you and Castiel in the car before one of you gets a concussion."

"Cas is here?" Dean asked, finally stumbling towards Samandriel. "'Course he is," he added, trailing Samandriel slowly as they made their way across the parking lot. It would seem he no longer had any issues with leaving his car. "That guy," Samandriel assumed he was still talking about Castiel, "he's cool. Pretty cool guy."

"I know," Samandriel agreed flatly, finally finding his way back over to Chuck. Castiel was leaning against Chuck's car by this time, looking around aimlessly. That was, until he saw Dean. And until Dean saw him.

"Hey!" Dean stumbled over to him, a goofy grin on his face. "It's you!" He nearly ran into him, only managing to stop his momentum in time to allow about a foot between him and Castiel.

"I'm me," Castiel pointed to himself, his words deep and serious. Chuck and Samandriel rolled their eyes.

"Okay, everyone in the car," Samandriel pulled open the back door before ushering Castiel in first. And Dean, it would appear, needed little inclination to follow. He ducked right in, nearly smacking his forehead in the process.

Samandriel slammed the door behind them.

"I'll follow you in my car," he was looking at Chuck, who frowned. "What?"

"What if they start to act stupid?" he crossed his arms over his chest. "Castiel I could handle, but both of them?" He cocked a skeptical brow and Samandriel sighed. "We'll come back for your car once we get Dean home, alright? So then it's just Castiel." Nodding in understanding, Samandriel made his way to the passenger's side before they both climbed in.

Starting the car, they backed out of the parking spot.

Dean leaned forward between the two front seats. "Where are we goin'?" he slurred.

"Well, that is the question," Samandriel replied. "Where do you live?" He glanced quickly back at Dean in the darkness, who'd flopped against the seat. Castiel, beside him, was rather focused on staring out the window, mouth agape.

"Kenrick Apartments," he replied easily enough, Chuck and Samandriel both thankful they hadn't had to lure it out of him, drunk as he was. Because not only had he apparently shared those shots with Castiel, but they'd later seen him drinking with Raphael as well.

"At least that's close," Chuck muttered, though everything was "close" in Burr.

"I'm staying at Chuck's tonight," Castiel turned abruptly inwards, intent on Dean as he spoke. "Because I'm drunk." He didn't suffer from the slur that Dean did, but he was acting rather loopy. Initially he'd been angry and mean, but that seemed to have passed.

"I'm going home," Dean replied, turning to meet Cas's gaze in the darkness. "I live alone." Chuck and Samandriel glanced at each other with furrowed brows, but didn't comment.

"So do I," Castiel replied, the two up front absolutely astounded by the intellect being displayed. "In Chicago."

"Thas pretty awesome," Dean was nodding. "You're pretty awesome."

"You're pretty," Castiel laid the side of his head against the back seat, still staring at Dean, and both Samandriel and Chuck rolled their eyes.

"I know," Dean agreed, which caused the two sober ones to then sigh. "I'm adorable." He grinned, that bright smile shining even in the darkness. Castiel didn't respond however, the silence spurring Dean to continue speaking. No matter how unadvised that might be. "You're a pretty girl," he finally slurred, still looking at Castiel before he reached out and booped him on the nose, much like Cas had done earlier that evening.

"I know," Cas agreed.

"And I'm glad we just arrived at Kenrick Apartments," Chuck announced, thankful the trip wasn't long because neither he nor Samandriel were quite sure what to think of the exchange going on in the backseat. "Where do we need to go Dean?"

"The righ-side," he replied, pulling his eyes away from Castiel to lean forward again and gesture rather unnecessarily to the right. "Over there. No wait. Yeah, stop… stop here," the car was pausing and stalling as they tried to take the directions. "Pull up here. Righ… yeah, like that."

Chuck and Samandriel sighed again.

"Thanks," Dean stated, fumbling with the door before finally getting it open. Falling out of the car, he just barely made it into standing as he wobbled across the snow littered yard toward the building. Those in the car watched him momentarily before eventually deciding to get out and make sure he got to wherever it was he was headed.

"I'm coming too," Castiel announced, able to push the door open much more gracefully than Dean before he surged out. He looked as though he might lose his balance, Chuck growing impatient with him, but he was grounded soon enough. And neither of the sober ones objected to him coming along. It was better than leaving him in the car alone, or so they figured.

Dean seemed to know where he was going however, bumbling up a flight of stairs rather successfully before continuing down a single hallway. It wasn't the most magnificent of apartment buildings, maybe a little below what an average person might consider acceptable. And as Chuck and Samandriel glanced around, they couldn't help feeling very alone and secluded in the dimmed lighting.

Castiel was following dutifully behind.

"Here's me," Dean muttered as he approached the door. He started searching through his pockets, no doubt for his keys, and Samandriel stepped forward. Handing him the ring of clanking metal, Dean "hmphed" in response before locating the correct key. Pushing his way into the apartment, he was intent on delving into the darkness, which left Chuck and Samandriel to find the light switch. Unfortunately, they failed.

"Okay Dean," Chuck pulled out his phone and flipped it forward, igniting part of what looked like the kitchen. "We're going to go now so… don't do anything stupid." There was no reply, Chuck glancing over at Samandriel with a shrug. Their lack of care didn't last long however, mostly because a few seconds later, they realized that Castiel was gone. He'd wandered further into the apartment.

"Castiel!" Chuck stated loudly. "Get back he-"

"Dude," Samandriel grabbed his arm, silencing him. "Let him go," he muttered. "Then he can stay here and they can both be drunk together. That way, we don't have to worry about them." Chuck, eyebrows furrowed, considered the idea.

"But what if they do something stupid?"

"What are they gonna do?" Samandriel asked. "They could barely hold a coherent conversation. They'll be passed out in no time." Thinking on it for only a moment longer, Chuck eventually gave in and decided it'd be one less worry for him.

Looking back into the apartment, he cleared his throat. "We're gonna go now Castiel," he announced. "So you have fun."

"Goodbye," was the low response they were given, proof that Castiel was still alive. Satisfied, they nodded once to each other before heading back out the door, leaving Dean and Castiel to fend for themselves.

Which, now that Dean had finally found his bedroom, wouldn't be that difficult. It was the only room in the apartment that had a light switch; everything else was either a lamp or a pull string. Flicking it on, his somewhat blurred eyes adjusted and the light cascaded out into the living room. Turning to peer out, he narrowed his eyes when he spotted a figure sitting on his sofa.

Automatically suspicious, he bumbled into the room, not at all afraid of who it might be or whether they could be dangerous. Reaching the table by the sofa, he reached up and turned the switch that would flick on the lamp before turning to the figure accusingly.

Able to see now, their faces only inches apart, Dean finally recognized who was sitting there. Cas was staring up at him, not at all fazed by his attack. Rather, all he did was blink.

"It's you," Dean observed astutely.

"I'm me," Cas assured. Defenses lowering (what little of them had been risen), Dean leaned back before stepping around Cas and plopping down on the sofa next to him. They sat like that for a moment, silent, until Cas finally turned to look at Dean again.

"You're parents are dead," he stated flatly. At first Dean didn't reply, eyebrows furrowing as he considered what he'd just heard. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his brain was reminding him that he didn't like to talk about personal things. But it would appear his mouth was more in charge at the moment.

"Yup," he agreed simply. "Ten years ago in the middle of a snow storm." Besides, he wasn't really allowing too much info to leak through anyway.

"I'm sorry," Cas's deep voice decided.

"Not your fault," Dean assured. "You weren't even here."

"Neither were you," or so Cas had heard.

"Had to come back though," Dean nodded. "Which is okay. Now I'm here," he glanced quickly to Cas, "and you're here too. We're both here." So it would appear.

"I'm only here for Christmas," Cas corrected however, pulling his gaze from Dean only momentarily before another thought struck him and he'd whipped back around to catch those green eyes. "What do you do for Christmas?" Because he was suddenly very curious.

"Not a whole lot," Dean's slur wasn't quite so severe anymore. "Just me and Sammy usually, and sometimes Bobby. But I think he's workin' this year, since me and him are the only ones at the shop anymore." Because someone had to run it and Dean had worked Christmas the year before.

"Do you get a tree?" Cas's voice was ever curious. "Trees are important."

"Nah," Dean waved the idea off. "Not worth wastin' the money."

"Oh," Cas looked away again. "I don't have that problem." If he was sober, he'd have remembered that such a comment wasn't politically correct. Lucky for him however, Dean didn't mind. Actually, he found Cas's social inadequacies to be quite amusing.

Always had. Even back in high school. Not amusing in a mean way however, not like Raphael had. No, he thought of it differently. Cas was almost… cute about it.

Cute?

He'd better save that analysis for when he was sober.

"What time is it?" Dean asked suddenly, looking over at Cas for an answer. He only got a shrug in response however, those blue eyes catching his once again. "Well, it's late, in any case. I'm going to bed." He then furrowed his eyebrows, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Where are you going?"

Cas shrugged again.

"Well, I guess you can crash on the couch," Dean glanced down at the sofa. "It's kinda old though. And this side is missing some of the stuffing." Dean knew from experience that it wasn't very comfortable. "Or there's the floor. _Or_," he raised his eyebrows knowingly, "I can get you Sammy's air mattress.

"That's what we'll do," he stood to his feet, wobbling a bit. "I'll go get that. It's just in my closet." Gesturing forward while pushing his feet in the same direction, he tripped back into his bedroom. Cas watched him momentarily, eyebrows furrowed, before getting to his own feet as well and following after.

Dean's room wasn't that big. He had a single mattress in the corner, sitting on a bedspring. There was no frame or headboard. The dresser was old, chipped, and littered with childish stickers. Perhaps the same furniture he'd used as a kid. There were stacks of clothes littered across the brown carpet. And in the corner across from the bed was a single desk with an old computer and monitor sitting on top.

"It's up here," Dean was saying, Cas turning his attention to him as he reached up towards the top shelf of his closet. "Have to get it out for Sammy anyway…" Cas didn't care much about the air mattress however. He was more distracted by the fact that Dean had shed his over shirt and when he reached up into the closet, his t-shirt drifted upwards, revealing a strip of pale, white skin. Because, besides his arms and face, very little else of Dean saw the sunlight.

Due to the drunkenness, Cas didn't bother hiding how he stared. Dean couldn't see him anyway. Instead, eyes still trained on that slip of flesh, he wandered over to the bed and sat down. Because his legs were tired.

"Here it is," Dean muttered and tried to pull something down from the shelf. It wouldn't budge however and, growling, he tugged harder. Still it wouldn't fall. So he gave it a great yank and with a tumble, if finally fell free. As well as numerous other boxes that landed directly on top of him.

Wide-eyed, Cas watched as Dean and his stuff toppled to the ground, landing in a heap before the closet.

"Are you alright?" Cas asked, moderately concerned, but not enough to spur him into getting up.

"Yes!" Dean growled in frustration as he pushed a couple boxes out of his lap. Muttering incoherently to himself, he located the air mattress once again before pulling it out from under some of the dusty debris. With it finally free, he got to his feet again before turning to Cas. "There, now you just have to blow it up."

Cas cocked a skeptical brow. "No." He decided and, intending to remain steadfast in his refusal, flopped back on the bed.

Dean frowned.

"Well I'm not going to use it," Dean stated flatly and garnered no response. "Hey," he dropped the air mattress to the floor. "Cas," he leaned over the bed to get a better look at the guy. "Cas, don't fall asleep there." Those blue eyes were already closed. "Cas!" He tapped his cheeks in an attempt to wake him.

"Don't," Cas whined and pushed Dean away, his eyes closing tighter. Rolling over, he scooted further onto the bed.

"Cas, get up," Dean complained, both of them sounding rather childish and immature. "That's my bed. I'm the one that sleeps there. You have to use the air mattress." He pulled one knee up onto the bed, leaning further over so he could shake Cas's jacket-covered shoulder. "Cas…"

Nothing.

Dean sighed.

"I'm not using the air mattress," he said firmly, but it would appear that Cas was either asleep or ignoring him. Dean narrowed his eyes, considering the predicament as well as his drunk mind would allow.

"Okay, fine," he eventually determined. "You can sleep there, but you have to stay on your side." He tried to push Cas's body a little closer to the other edge. "I'll sleep on this side and you stay over there." Still there was no response, Cas's breathing easy and slow. Rhythmic.

"Good," Dean decided. Kicking off his boots, that was as far as he got before he decided that everything else was just too much effort. Including the light switch.

So, lights on, he slid onto "his" side of the bed.

He promptly passed out.

* * *

**A/N:** Aw, passed out and drunk together, how… adorable. Yeah. In any case, I wonder how they'll feel when they wake up? Hmmm…

Hope you enjoy! Lots of love and please **Read and Review! I want your thoughts! RAWR! **


	5. Chapter 4: Morning Coffee

**Tipping the Hourglass**

_Chapter 4: Morning Coffee_

Cas didn't want to open his eyes.

His head was already throbbing and he hadn't even faced the day yet. It was so much more comfortable where he was. The bed was soft, if that was what it was, and not only was he under some sort of covers, but he was cuddled up to something cozy and warm. And that smelled like old leather and spice, oddly enough, but he didn't mind that so much. Actually, he was growing to like it.

Yes, it was much safer to just go back to sleep and never wake up again.

Unfortunately however, with waking came the threat of thinking, even to his aching brain. And, even worse, Cas was a pretty curious guy, which meant he was eventually asking the "w" questions.

Now he just had to decide if getting up and finding his answers was going to be worth the pain.

He supposed he'd have to get up eventually no matter what he argued however, so with a slight sigh, he allowed his eyes to slowly peel open.

At first, the blinding light of the day was almost potent enough to render him unwilling. It shot to his head and stirred his hangover far too swiftly. But after a few seconds of nauseating focus, he was eventually able to keep his eyes open, though perhaps with them blinking numerous times.

He couldn't see much however. Mostly because there was some kind of black fabric directly in front of him. And as he examined it more closely, he realized it was moving in and out.

Breathing.

Leather and spice…

A black t-shirt…

Cas's eyes bulged painfully inside his skull.

Half of him wanted to bolt upright while the other was screwed in place. Why? Because now that he understood where exactly he was and what, or who rather, was giving off so much warmth, he was even more aware of the fact that not only was he nuzzled up to this… individual, but that its arms were wrapped quite securely around him.

Dean Winchester was cuddling with him!

No, he needed to calm down. Think about this rationally. Certainly there was some kind of logic to be salvaged.

Yet somehow his mind was still foggy, and not just because of his severe, horrible hangover. No, he had the feeling, due to the buzzing in the back of his head, that he was also still slightly drunk.

Well, that would certainly impair his judgment.

No, focus. Focus on the Dean situation.

_Dean Winchester_!

Taking a deep breath, Cas tried to fight through the haze and come up with a plan. One that, best case scenario, would allow him to escape Dean's embrace without waking the man. He didn't know how possible that was however. Was Dean a heavy sleeper? A light one? He had no idea.

It was all looking rather hopeless.

Brows furrowed in concentration, Cas wiggled slightly in place, trying to see if he could maybe slide downwards and out of Dean's arms. But even as he did, the man beside him stirred. Cas froze

He could have sworn his heart stopped for a moment.

Why? Because this could be potentially disastrous! It was one thing for Dean to apologize for once being homophobic. It was quite another for him to wake up sleeping, quite intimately, with a gay man. Most straight guys wouldn't be able to handle that.

Dean had stilled again however, Cas allowing himself to breathe. Lips tight, he was about to try again, being as careful as he could, when a sudden screeching echoed in his already sensitive ears. He couldn't help the way he flinched, turning back into Dean defensively as it frazzled and shook his already delicate brain.

And it just kept _going_.

"Make it stop!" Dean groaned above him, Cas far too injured by the offending scream as he burrowed into Dean's chest. Maybe if he dug deep enough, he'd be able to get away from it. It was just so… loud.

Dean had a similar idea, apparently, his arms tightening around Cas as he buried his face in the other man's hair.

Just let it stop…

And after some few agonizing more seconds, it finally did.

The room was silent and both of them slowly allowed their bodies to relax.

But, with both of them now awake, that could only last so long.

Blue eyes blinking back open, Cas felt Dean tense around him, which made him react in much the same way. Yet neither of them dared move yet. Instead, wide-eyed, they stared straight ahead at whatever was directly in front of them and tried to figure out what exactly they _should_ do.

What was acceptable for this kind of situation?

Because it'd have been one thing if they'd simply woken up on the bed together. Like any good drunks, they'd be, perhaps, sprawled out or set up in rather lazy positions. But that _wasn't_ the case, sadly. No, they were chest-to-chest, as close as they could get, legs tangled in the both each other and the sheets.

This was _not_ normal.

Yet before the situation could be considered more deeply, that agonizing scream started up once again.

More in control of himself now, Cas was able to pinpoint what it was, and where it was coming from. Reaching as swiftly as his arms could go, he dug his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

The perfect excuse.

Pushing through how it rang, Cas used the opportunity to sit up, Dean's arms falling stiffly away. His bottom half was still caught up in the blankets, but he was able to disentangle himself from Dean, though the other man was still practically on top of him.

He pulled his phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice severely gravelly, even for him.

"Castiel, honey," it was his mother. He tried not to flinch at the sound of her sharp voice. "I called you a minute ago, and when you didn't pick up, I called Chuck. He said you're at Dean Winchester's?" She sounded curious. "At Kenrick apartments?"

"Yes," Cas verified, trying not to dwell on the fact for too long.

"Well, do you think you could stop by the post office on your way back? You're in the area anyway I think, and I'm not going to be heading out that way today. There should be a package there for me."

"Sure," Cas agreed without really considering what his mother was saying. "Thank you Castiel," she replied. "I really appreciate you doing that."

"Of course."

"I'll see you in a little while. And don't forget it's cookie night."

"Right," Cas, again, agreed without thinking. "Bye mom."

"Bye honey."

She hung up.

And then, slowly, so did Cas.

Hand lowering, he gradually replaced his phone in his pocket, forcing his breath to be even despite how he avoided looking back at Dean. He could tell that the other man had sat up, was basically directly behind him, but he had no idea what to say. Or do. Or think.

This kind of thing wasn't exactly his forte.

Thankfully, Dean seemed to be recovering a little faster, as far as social expectations were concerned.

He released a deep breath. "So…" his voice wasn't faring any better than Cas's. "I'm gonna go… to the bathroom…" Yeah, that sounded like a pretty valid excuse. Pausing for only a moment longer, Dean, lips pursed, eventually got to his feet, shucking off the blankets on the way. He didn't look back at Cas as he exited the bedroom. Or couldn't perhaps. Instead, he bee-lined it for the toilet.

Closing the door behind him, Dean went immediately to the sink and simply stared down at it.

He was trying to get his thoughts in order.

So, he and Cas had drank. Right. Then… Chuck and Samandriel? Yeah, it must have been them. They'd given him a ride home. And somehow Cas had ended up staying at his place.

That's right, he'd passed out on the bed.

And then so had Dean.

So at some point during the night, they'd ended up… closer.

Yeah, that was all. Nothing to be worked up about. It was all fine. Totally cool. Just him and another dude… cuddling… Yeah, that happened.

Shit.

Dean didn't have time to consider it much further however. Ears trained on the room outside, he heard a thumping noise, like someone tripping, and he suddenly remembered that yes, Cas was still there. In his apartment.

What must Cas think? There he was, hiding in the bathroom after waking up next to him? Great Dean, way to really deal with that one. Fact of the matter was, he didn't want Cas to be mad at him, or offended by him. Maybe what had happened wasn't normal, but that didn't matter at the moment. No, first he had to march back out there and make Cas feel…

Welcome?

He didn't know! He just had to do something!

Pushing himself from against the sink, Dean whipped around a little too quickly, caught himself, blinked, and pulled the bathroom door back open. Stalking out, he looked around for Cas and spotted him right away.

He looked to be headed towards the door, but had come to a dead halt when Dean had reappeared. And as he took in those blue eyes, Dean was granted an expression he hadn't seen in a long time. That was, Cas with his mouth slightly agape, cheeks pale, and looking absolutely terrified.

Only the last time he'd seen that face, Raphael had been beating the guy.

Now it was Dean he was afraid of.

And for the first time ever, Dean realized that, all through their high school years, Cas had _never_ looked at him like that. Yes, when he'd been being bullied, he'd fallen into that expression, but not once had it been directed at his way.

Dean didn't like it. Not at all.

"Hey, Cas," he took step forward. "It's okay." He wasn't even sure what he was saying. "Don't… freak out… or anything." Still that expression stuck, Dean trying to find the magic words that would relieve it. "Really, it's not a big deal," he gestured to the bedroom. "It happens…"

Only it didn't.

Still no reaction from Cas however, who seemed to be frozen, staring at him.

"I'm not mad," Dean finally said. "I'm not mad at you." So please, stop looking at him like he'd just killed an angel or something. Christ.

Slowly then, Cas's jaw came up, his mouth closing. And though his eyes still looked as uncertain as ever, his fear leaked away to be replaced by tension, which was better than previous Dean supposed.

There was a momentary silence when Dean tried to come up with what to do next.

"I, uh," Dean glanced to the kitchen. "I was just going to get some coffee going, if you're interested. You know, for the hangover." Cas didn't appear totally convinced. "It'll help, so…" Taking in those blue eyes for just a moment longer, he then turned and made his way to the coffee pot. Ignoring the silence behind him, he focused on putting the filter in. On getting the water and the grounds. On listening to it bubble once he'd turned it on.

He pursed his lips, aware that he was nervous.

Yet still he heard nothing out of Cas and he knew, based on the guy's social confusion, that he'd have to be the one to… say something, do something. Get Cas to understand that he could relax.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned, taking Cas in his sights once again. He was still standing in the same place on the other side of the apartment, though his gaze was more suspicious now than anything else. Whatever was going through his head, he didn't trust Dean about it. Which was probably pretty reasonable.

"You can sit down," Dean gestured to the dining room table. Cas didn't respond right away. He narrowed his eyes further, still guarded, and, after some seconds of staring at Dean, finally pushed his feet across the apartment to the table. Pulling out the chair, he never took his eyes from Dean as he sat down in the chair farthest away.

Cas didn't understand what was going on. He and Dean, well, they weren't even friends. They were barely acquaintances. It'd have been different, say, if he'd woken up cuddling with Chuck, or Balthazar. They'd have laughed it off and made a joke. But Dean… Dean shouldn't be taking it this well.

No straight guy that didn't know Cas would be taking what had happened _this well. _At the very least, he should have been awkwardly ushered from the apartment, not asked to stay for coffee. Best-case scenario, Dean had developed an open mind and wasn't in the least bit offended by Cas having cuddled with him all night. That didn't make the situation any more acceptable.

It was like having a one-night stand without the… sex part. Like getting all the bad without any of the good. Only one didn't make coffee and try to be cordial about it. Unless, of course, Dean _wanted_ them to be friends.

He supposed that could work, make a valid argument. Yet even for that, Cas wasn't totally convinced.

It was just too… weird.

He didn't understand.

"I'm assuming you drink coffee," Dean was saying. He'd turned back to the counter and was pulling two mugs from the cupboard. "You look like the type that would." Cas didn't respond, supposing that would just have to be answer enough seeing as his voice was nowhere to be found.

Pouring two cups, Dean set one down on one side, presumably where he would sit, before coming around and placing the second mug before Cas. As he did however, he seemed to give the other man a once over before smirking.

"You know, I hadn't realized that you made your hair messy on purpose," he started. "But I see now that you must because you've got a serious case of bedhead." And then he did something Cas hadn't expected in the least. He reached up and pressed down on Cas's hair, probably the part that was out of control.

The touch wasn't overly sensual or anything out of line, but that didn't change the fact that Dean was reaching out and attempting to fix Cas's hair. The effort was futile, Dean giving up a few moments later, but that didn't change that it had happened.

Cas hadn't had any idea how to react, so he hadn't. He'd frozen under the touch, his eyes growing wider as tension overtook his whole body. If Dean had noticed however, he didn't give any hint to as much as he walked back around the table and sat down in his own seat. His green eyes were focused on his mug, not his companion. Which was probably good because Cas was sure he looked absolutely petrified.

After all, what else could he be?

Dean had come up and touched him? And not in "hey buddy" kind of way. That aside, there was still the fact that _they weren't friends_! Even if they'd been hanging out for a few days and were relatively familiar with each other, which they _weren't_, reaching up and fondling someone's hair was still passing some kind of personal boundary.

Cas just didn't understand!

Why was this happening?

_Why was it happening?! _

"Your coffee's gonna get cold you know," Dean commented, surging Cas out of his thoughts. Slowly allowing the words to register, Cas still failed to verbally respond, but was able to reach forth and take the cup. Avoiding Dean's eyes, he sipped and tried to ignore the throbbing in his skull, which wasn't aided by Dean's behavior.

Unfortunately, probably due to his own discomfort, no attempts at further conversation was made on either part. Dean looked like he might say something on a few occasions, but as soon was he took in Cas's eyes, he'd falter, stop, and purse his lips. There was even a few times when annoyance tripped across his face, but it was quickly overtaken by sympathy. Mostly because it was blatantly obvious that Cas was distressed.

Nothing he'd tried to say would have alleviated that. Mostly because he didn't know how to go about doing so.

Thus they sat in silence until their mugs were empty.

Dean sighed.

Cas finally gulped and located his voice.

"I should go," he decided, still not looking at Dean. "My mother is expecting me to pick something up for her." It was a lame excuse, mostly because his mother hadn't given him a time. But Dean didn't know that.

"Oh…" Dean looked to the side. "Alright…" Rising from his seat, he reached over and took Cas's cup, attempting to not feel terribly put-off by his attitude. This was Castiel Novak after all, socially awkward dweeb.

Yes, he'd thought it and Dean quickly reprimanded himself for referring to the guy as such, even in his head. But for crying out loud…

Lips pursed, Cas slowly rose from his seat, not taking in Dean's stare once he'd turned again to face him. Instead, he simply trailed the other man's movements as he walked across the room, presumably to the door.

Cas followed.

And Dean took a deep, _patient_ breath. He shoved his irritation into the pit of his stomach.

He wondered vaguely if he'd even see Cas again. And why he cared so much whether he did or not.

"Well…" he wasn't exactly sure what to say as he reached for his door, opening it. "Glad you stayed for coffee." And Cas said absolutely nothing at all. Because that really eased the awkwardness. Dean almost rolled his eyes.

Cas, feeling somewhat ashamed of his behavior now that he was more in control of himself, finally found the guts to glance up at Dean as he walked out. Turning, he faced the man now standing in the doorway, trying to configure something to say.

Anything.

"It was good," was all he could come up with, thankful that the deepness of his voice did well in masking the sheepishness. Thought the fact that he'd just commented on a pot of regular coffee probably did the exact opposite.

"Yeah, sure," Dean cracked a smile then, apparently amused, before doing something even more shocking than fondling Cas's his hair. He reached out, with both arms, and grabbed Cas's coat by the edge. With a gentle pull, he flattened the front before reaching up and straightening the collar, which had apparently been sticking up on one side (much like Cas's hair).

And before he pulled away from the already shocked man before him, his hand came up and quickly brushed Cas's cheek, an amused smirk gracing his lips.

"You really got some peach fuzz goin' on," he finally withdrew his arm. "Guess it had to come in eventually." Normally, such words might have been taken as an insulting joke, something Cas would glare at him for, but the way he said it didn't insinuate that intention. No, there was a quiet kind of tenderness, a tone that Cas only registered in the back of his mind.

Mostly because his thoughts were more intent on other factors. One factor in particular, actually. One that echoed in his head with Anna's feminine voice. Advice she'd given him some many years ago.

"_Because Cas,_" she'd been exasperated. "_When a guy touches you like that, it totally means he's into you._"

When a guy touches him the way Dean was. Lightly, softly, without any clear intentions.

When Dean touched him…

That thought was all Cas could register. Other variables tried to filter in, but they weren't strong enough to overcome Anna's logic.

And because of that, and the slight drunkenness he was still suffering from, Cas did something he'd probably regret for the rest of his life.

Abruptly stepping forward, he reached out and grabbed Dean by the fabric of his shirt. Those green eyes went wide with surprise, but Cas barely registered the reaction as he tugged Dean closer.

Eyes forced shut, he didn't even hesitate. No, he simply pushed forward and slammed his lips into Dean's.

He kissed him.

The connection didn't last long. Just long enough actually for Dean to register what was happening. Because as soon as he did, Cas had pulled harshly away with a gasping breath.

Those shocked, scared blue eyes blinked at him, but Dean, mouth hanging open, was speechless.

Again.

Cas couldn't believe what he'd just done.

"Sorry," the word came quickly to his tongue, an attempt to recover what little he'd just destroyed. But that combined with his terror created only one solution. That was, the sudden need to escape. Very quickly.

Turning away, Cas practically jogged away, rounding the corner to the stairs and bolting down.

Dean was alone by the time he was able to catch his breath. He dragged his eyes down and around the hall, but there was nothing.

Cas was gone.

**oOo**

What had he done?

Oh **shit**, _what_ had he _done_?!

"I kissed _Dean Winchester_…"

He didn't even realize he was talking to himself. Probably.

He'd been asking himself the same question for the last forty minutes, and giving himself the same answer equally. He probably appeared rather insane as he walked down the street, his mother's package held under his arm. But he didn't pass anyone so it hardly mattered. Not that he actually had the focus enough to care.

It was for this reason that he found himself outside his parents' house without any clear understanding of how he got there. He realized however, as he stared up at the front door, that he'd better pull himself together. He couldn't walk into the pastor's house mumbling about kissing another man.

Forcing his head to take his heed, he pushed himself through the front door.

As he walked in, his mother, who was in the kitchen and heard him come in, came walking out to greet him as he slipped off his shoes. If she noticed his pale, tight face, she didn't comment on it as she took the package from where he'd set it on the floor.

"I'm glad you're finally home," she started, Cas about to head up to his room and collapse in a heap of despair, but supposing it'd be kind of rude to ignore her. So he trailed her into the other room.

"I could use some help getting these cookies done," she explained, Cas shucking off his jacket to reveal his yellow sweater. He set the article on the back of a chair in the adjacent dining room. "They need to be at the church by tomorrow morning."

Joining her in the kitchen, Cas surveyed the job she'd done so far. There were sugar cookies in the oven, on waiting trays, stacked up on plates and on platters. It'd been a long time since his mother had made this many cookies. Mostly because, during this time of year, she and his father were in Chicago. But this was the first year in ten that _his_ father would be overseeing the church goings on. Generally it was Pastor Raguel who dealt with Christmas, seeing as he was there, in town. He was also Raphael's father, which was another reason for Cas to not want to step foot in that church ever again, among his numerous others.

In any case, his mother was at work making hundreds of cookies because they'd be given away at the homeless shelters there and in nearby towns. It was something that usually one or two families did, and this year his mother had volunteered. When he'd been younger, she'd volunteered nearly every year and he'd always been sentenced to a day and night of baking and frosting. It was the equivalent of torture at times.

But he supposed he'd cease from complaining this year, seeing as he hadn't done it in ten years.

"I also invited Chuck and Samandriel over to help frost later," she continued as she busied herself around the kitchen. Somehow, despite the messy doings baking involved, her dark sweater and black slacks were clean. Which reminded him that he'd been wearing the same outfit since yesterday morning. "It'll be just like when you guys were in high school," she smiled over at him. "I thought you'd enjoy that."

Cas tried to smile, but his hangover was making it difficult. Instead, he reached for one of the naked sugar cookies stacked up beside him and took a bite.

"I also," his mother appeared abruptly thoughtful, her head cocking to the side slightly, "invited Dean Winchester." Cas nearly choked on his cookie, some of the crumbs dropping to the floor from between his lips. Thankfully, he'd been quiet about it and his mother hadn't noticed. She was taking a tray of freshly baked morsels from the oven.

"When you didn't pick up your phone the first time this morning, I called Chuck and he said you were 'crashing' at Dean Winchester's." Which must have been when she'd called the second time. Turning to look at her son again, who was trying to hide his shock and inability to properly ear a cookie, she cast him a curious look. "I didn't know you and him were friends."

"You called him?" Cas finally sputtered.

"Of course," she returned her attention to some of the cookie dough on the counter. "I got his number from Bobby. I figured that if he's a friend of yours, then he could come over and help too." Cas's eyes bugged. "That poor boy. I bet he gets lonely."

"You invited him over?" Cas wasn't sure if his heart could handle the pressure.

"Yes Castiel," his mother furrowed her eyebrows at him in disapproval. "What's wrong with you?" he didn't answer. "In any case, I told him he could come over around five."

"Wait," Cas tried to comprehend what she was saying. "He agreed to come? Here?" With him? After what had happened that morning?

"_Yes_ Castiel," his mother sounded almost scolding, her hands going to her hips. "Is there a problem with that? I thought you were friends with him. You did 'crash'" must have been Chuck's word, "at his apartment last night, didn't you?"

That was one way to put.

Cas didn't reply and his mother shook her head.

"Like I was saying," she tried, again, to get back to her cookies. "I need help, so why don't you go upstairs, put on some clean clothes," because it was obvious he'd slept in the ones currently on him, "and get back down here, alright?"

Cas, defeated and confused, nodded before turning and slumping his way through the house. Reaching the stairs, he dragged himself up every single one, his mind numb. All of it… it was just too much. He didn't get it.

Dean was coming over?

After what he'd done?

_Why_ was this happening…?

Reaching the hallway, Cas detoured to his old bedroom and, without much gusto, pushed his way inside.

He nearly died of a shock-induced heart attack.

"Surprise!" she screamed far too loudly for his hungover senses and Cas nearly tumbled back out the door trying to get away from her. "Oh, hey, Cas, are you alright?" The two of them rushed to his side, hauling him into the room.

"I'm fine," he replied gruffly, shaking them off. "What are you two doing here?" He easily overcame the shock, mostly because "surprise shock" was much easier to deal with than "emotional shock."

Both Anna and Balthazar grinned.

"Your parents flew us down," she explained. "They said that, since they'd spent nearly all of the last ten years celebrating Christmas with us, it wouldn't be the same if we weren't there." Because Anna and Balthazar were like his family away from family. And when his parents had been visiting, they'd all spent the holiday together.

"They flew you?" Cas asked, his brain only getting more and more frazzled as the day went on.

"Sure did," Balthazar flopped back down on Cas's bed. "Nice town by the way. Very… quaint." Neither Anna nor Cas could tell if he was being insulting or not.

"We're so happy to be here," Anna tried to remain positive. "It's nice to see where you grew up." The two of them had both grown up in Chicago, so the town of Burr must be a new experience for them. "And your mother said some of your old high school friends were coming over? To… frost cookies?"

Cas groaned, deciding not to make a big deal about the funds his parents had spent flying his two best friends in from Chicago.

"Yes, Chuck and Samandriel," Cas flopped down on his bed face first, eyes closed as he tried to puzzle things out in his head.

"Thought she said there were three," Balthazar commented and Cas groaned again. His two friends glanced to each other with furrowed brows, entirely surprised at their friend's reaction. Honestly, they'd assumed he'd be happier to see them. As happy as Cas could get anyway.

"Cas, honey, what's wrong?" Anna finally asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

At first, Cas didn't answer, wanting to pretend he was back in Chicago and that none of this had happened. But avoiding reality wasn't going to get him anywhere, especially when "reality" was coming over to frost Christmas cookies later.

He sighed.

"I did something stupid," he explained.

"I find that hard to believe," Balthazar replied seriously. Cas wasn't exactly known for making unadvised decisions. By contrast, he was generally the type that overthought everything, over analyzing every detail and still failing to understand.

"Cas, what happened?" Anna's sense of comfort took over and she sank down on the bed beside him. "Also…" because she'd smelled it on him when he'd nearly fallen over and they'd caught him, "have you been drinking?"

Cas nodded against the pillow, eyes still closed.

"Again, hard to believe," Balthazar stated.

"What did you do Cas?" Anna sounded a little less sympathetic, mostly because she also wasn't a drinker and no doubt disapproved of the idea of Cas partaking.

Cas mumbled into his pillow.

"What?" they both said.

"I kissed Dean Winchester…" he said a little louder.

Eyebrows furrowing, his two friends took a moment to consider his words, both of them glancing to one another before the name finally rang a distant bell in the back of their heads.

"You mean that fine gentlemen you pointed out in your high school yearbook?" Balthazar asked. "The one you… oh…"

"Wait, he's that guy you said you were in love with back in high school, right?" Anna asked, catching onto Balthazar's train of thought. "What do you mean you 'kissed' him? I thought he was straight?" Neither one of them commented on the fact that he was going around kissing Dean behind Michael's back. It hardly seemed important at the moment.

"He is," Cas reasoned. "I don't know why I did it…" Well, he knew _why_, he just didn't understand why he'd lost control. Or why Dean had then agreed to come over and hang out with him for a night. It didn't make any sense…

"Well… what happened?" Anna continued to inquire. "Did he freak out on you? Like he did back when you guys were in high school?" She was using her ass-kicking voice, like she was honestly going to go rip Dean a new one if he'd responded badly. But Cas had been gone long before the chance for that had come up. Yet even if Dean had decided to respond poorly, Cas wouldn't have blamed him.

It's not like he'd provided a warning.

Taking a deep breath, Cas gradually rolled over until he was on his back. Staring up into his friends' concerned faces, he slowly, deliberately, explained to them the few interactions he'd had with Dean since he'd come home, leaving out details like Raphael and sticking primarily to the "only Dean" parts.

They listened dutifully until Cas got to the end, whereupon he sighed and finished by mentioning how his mother had invited Dean over later. And that he'd seemingly agreed to come.

When finally he was silent again, so too were his friends. Considerately, they carefully gathered the pieces together before glancing to each other. They both knew they'd come to the same conclusion. It was just how they should break it to Cas that they were wavering on.

"Here, Cas, let my try and get this straight," Anna eventually started. "You came here, happened to meet up with this guy, and he apologizes to you for acting like an ass." Cas didn't have to nod. Instead, he stared sadly up at the ceiling. "Then, he meets you at a bar and buys you a drink." Or seven. At this, her distressed friend glanced over at her with furrowed brows. That wasn't how he'd interpreted it. "Then, you go home with him," again, not how he'd seen it, "and you two end up falling asleep together."

"You're making this sound very different than what I said," Cas tried to object, but Anna wasn't going to have any of it.

"When you wake up, he doesn't freak out, he offers you coffee. Then, he messes with your hair and fixes your jacket." He'd left out the facial hair comment. "Then you kissed him."

Cas nodded.

"And now he's willingly coming over to spend time with you," and all his friends, but that was neither here nor there apparently.

"Cas, honey," Anna tried not to sound too patronizing. "It sounds like this Dean guy has a thing for you."

"No," Cas wasn't going to have any of it. "That's impossible.

"I'm going to have to agree with Anna," Balthazar decided. "You said you weren't even friends, but he's agreed to come over to your house, by invitation of your mother, to get cozy with you? Pretty obvious Cas."

"He's straight."

"Apparently not," Balthazar disagreed.

"Cas, you kissed him," Anna reminded. "If he wasn't interested in you, then there's no way he'd agree to come over to _your_ house. Especially if he was straight. He's into you."

"No, he's not," Cas sat up abruptly, ignoring how his brain rocked. He looked pointedly at the two of them. "That's _impossible_." Giving no room for argument, he stood and pushed through the nausea. Going to the hallway, he didn't even bother to look back before he grabbed a towel from the closet and shut himself up in the bathroom.

He took a deep, steadying breath.

Then he gulped.

Dropping his towel on the counter beside the sink, he plopped himself down on the toilet seat before leaning back and closing his eyes. He forced his brain to calm, to settle, and slowly started to pick apart what had happened in the course of one short morning.

As had already been established, he'd kissed Dean. And now that very man had agreed to come over to his house and frost cookies with him. Without any apparent convincing.

He didn't understand…

Of course, if he took Anna and Balthazar's view, then it all made sense. But that… he couldn't let himself even fathom the idea. He'd gone through over half his high school career controlling himself, never letting himself think about it. The idea of him and Dean. And for a few years after, when he'd been attending school in Chicago, he'd still found himself thinking of Dean.

But now he was past that. He was living his own life far, far away from Burr and everyone there.

So why was the suggestion that Dean could… feel something for him scare him so much? He was over him, right?

Yeah, that's why he'd kissed him.

Cas wasn't the type to lie to himself. He could try, but generally it never worked. Fact of the matter was, he'd never forgotten Dean. He'd moved on, yes, but he'd never gotten over him. It was impossible, letting go of his first love. Painful as the memories may be.

But that was just what it was. A memory. Not even that. A fantasy.

It couldn't be real. It just couldn't.

Cas wouldn't even know how to react, what to do if Dean did… have feelings, or something, for him. It was a prospect he'd never allowed himself to indulge in. It'd been too painful. Because the truth had always been spelled out. Dean Winchester would never want him.

He _didn't_.

Cas refused to believe it.

There was just no way…

* * *

**A/N:** Oh man, I wonder how this is going to go. And the way Cas kissed him. Why in the world would Dean ever agree to come over? Hmmm, I wonder.

Hope you enjoyed! **PLEASE R&R! Your reviews keep me motivated.**


	6. Chapter 5: Painting Sweaters

**Tipping the Hourglass**

_Chapter 5: Painting Sweaters_

"Balthazar, what are you doing?" Anna's voice was scolding before she'd even gotten a proper answer. She was sitting on Cas's bed, arms crossed over her breasts, watching Balthazar open and close the drawers to Cas's desk. Correction – his old desk. His childhood desk. "You shouldn't be snooping," though she wasn't trying terribly hard to stop him.

"I'm not doing any harm," Balthazar replied as he started rummaging through one of Cas's old drawers. "This is all stuff from when he was young, so it's not like he's got anything to hide." Anna supposed he was right, but that didn't make it okay. "In any case, I'm not finding anything… of… interest…" Balthazar had paused, his hand pulling something brown and thick from the back of his current drawer.

Anna knew what it was as soon as she saw it.

"Look at this," Balthazar was grinning as he turned to her, the notebook held up in his hand. "Cas's old diary. Of course _he'd_ have kept one." It was something Cas would probably do. "Say we take a look?" He wasn't really asking as he plopped down on the bed beside Anna.

She rolled her eyes, but didn't stop him as he cracked open the book to a random page. They weren't too worried about being caught. Cas would probably be in the shower for a while.

"January 23, 2001," Balthazar started, grinning all the while, and Anna was listening intently despite her disapproval. She wasn't really expecting much however; Cas was a pretty open-book most of the time. "My new school is okay," the reading started. "I don't really care much for Burr at the moment, but Mom and Dad are happy with the new house, and the church is nice, so I guess I won't complain. I sat with two boys at lunch today, one named Chuck and the other Samandriel. They were nice I think, and asked if I wanted to sit with them again tomorrow. I said yes."

"Isn't this sweet?" Balthazar turned the page as he spoke. "Little ole Cas writing down his feelings."

"Either read or shut up," Anna reprimanded.

Balthazar skipped ahead a few more pages, stopping when he got to a particularly large entry. Most of the others were small, blurb-like, but this one appeared a great deal more significant.

"February 3, 2001 –

Something incredible happened today. I don't quite know how to explain it, or even what to think really. I've never felt this feeling before, like I know someone even though we've never said two words to each other. I don't even know his name, but I saw him walking down the hall today. It was like, as I watched him, I was remembering watching him before. Like I knew him from somewhere. I tried to remember from where, but I'm pretty sure that today was the first time I'd seen him. I want to try to talk to him, whoever he is. I've never wanted to get to know someone so badly in my life, like I'm being pulled. I need to talk to him."

"Wow…" Anna hummed thoughtfully. "That's some pretty potent stuff."

"Shhh, I'm reading," Balthazar shushed and she glared at him.

"February 6, 2001 –

I learned his name today. Not because I asked him, but because he just switched into my biology class. His name is Dean Winchester. And that's not all. He sits next to me! We're lab partners. Because I'm new and he was late to the class. I was so nervous when he sat down next to me, but I don't know why. It was like there was this-"

"Alright, stop," Anna placed her hand over the diary. "It's getting a little personal I think." It was one thing to read about Cas's everyday thoughts and quite another to indulge in one of the few things he hated talking about, even then.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Balthazar agreed, flipping through the pages without any real intent. Yet despite how he knew he should close the book and put it away, a later page caught his attention and he flipped back to it. Like the other's previously, it was a longer passage, but what had drawn Balthazar's attention wasn't the text, but the marks marring it.

Spots on the paper. Water stains over ten years old.

Anna had spotted it too, glancing up at her friend only quickly before deciding it was okay to read against her better judgment. Human curiosity.

"August 4, 2001," Balthazar started, a little quieter in his reading than he had been before. "It's not getting any easier at school. I was hoping that this year would be different than how the end of last was. But it's already worse. Raphael won't leave me alone and I don't know how to get rid of him. Or even hide from him. He always finds me.

"That's not the worst though. Raphael is horrible, but I just wish Dean wasn't always there to see it. I don't want him to see how scared I am. I know he thinks it's funny, he laughs, but he's not the same as Raphael. He never actually touches me, even though he does get rough with some of the other guys I know. But never me. Sometimes I wish he would, so that I'd know he was just like the rest of them. That way I could get over him. I don't know why I still like him so much, but I can't help it." The writing here started to get hard to read, like the writer had been struggling. "I don't know what it is, and I'm afraid to discuss it with Chuck and Samandriel, they'll think I'm crazy. _I_ think I'm crazy.

"But I feel like I have this connection with Dean that he's ignoring. That's why he doesn't touch me. He senses it too and he… he hates me for it, I know. Maybe it's farfetched to believe in soul mates, I don't know, but I don't have any other way of describing it. What else could it be? I feel like I know him even though I don't, and it hurts. It hurts so much because I know he hates me already and he'd hate me even more if he knew the truth. I just don't understand why it has to be like this? Why-" And the line died, like it couldn't be continued.

"That's some intense stuff, even for a teenager," Balthazar commented quietly, Anna silent. Eventually he looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "Do you believe in soul mates?"

She considered his question. "I don't know," she sighed. "I believe in energy. That we all have a certain energy that vibrates with everyone else's, and that some of us jive better with others. But soul mates…? I think I like the idea, but it's so… impractical…"

"Cas told me once," Balthazar started, "that he didn't believe in soul mates. That it wasn't a rational thing to search for." And they both realized then, because they'd both heard Cas say as much, that such a speech wasn't the result of logic, but of hurt. It was Cas's way of defending himself against the ache of Dean Winchester. Because if this diary and his reaction to the suggestion that this Dean guy might be interested in him said anything, it was that the pain, though buried and covered, was still fresh somewhere inside Cas. They'd seen it in his posture when he'd left, stomped out the door. In his concern over what had happened between the two that morning. All those feelings he'd kept locked away as a teenager.

No wonder he didn't want to consider the idea.

"I've never heard him talk about Michael like this…" Balthazar muttered.

"He was young when he wrote this," Anna reasoned. "You can't compare high school Cas to now Cas. I mean…" Her defense faltered. "This was a long time ago…"

"What was a long time ago?" Both Anna and Balthazar jumped to their feet, turning swiftly to see that Cas had come back through the door. His hair was a jumbled, wet mess, but he was dressed anew in a pair of gray slacks, a white button up shirt, and a maroon over sweater, the sleeves a little too long for him.

"Uh…" Shit, they'd been caught. "We were just…" Balthazar couldn't come up with anything to say, mostly because he was holding the diary behind his back with no feasible way of hiding it from Cas.

They were probably better off just being honest.

"Here," Balthazar sighed and held out the book. "We were reading this." They both stared down at the carpet, ashamed, as Cas slowly retrieved the old diary. "Apologies…"

"Where did you find this?" Cas was staring down at it curiously, not offended as of yet.

"In your desk," Anna admitted. A silence fell over them for a moment then, the only sound being Cas flipping through the pages of the old diary. He paused every now and then, as if browsing, but eventually allowed the cover to fall shut.

He sighed.

"I majority of the entries in this are about Dean Winchester," he confirmed.

"Yeah, we noticed…" Balthazar replied, still looking rather sheepish, though both he and Anna had found the guts to look up by this point.

"What did you read?" Cas's voice was still oddly open, not irritated or annoyed, and he carelessly tossed the diary onto the bed. "It's alright," he was refusing to look at them however, instead staring down at the book. "You can ask me about it if you want." He sounded… oddly defeated.

Anna frowned.

"Well, we weren't going to ask you anything," Balthazar rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Though you did seem a little, I guess, serious for a teenager in some of those entries."

Cas cocked a single eyebrow, but didn't reply. Instead, after a pause, he rounded the bed, passing by his two friends, and went to his closet. Reaching into the corner, they both watched curiously as he pulled what looked like a large, dusty sketchpad from the back. It wasn't terribly big, maybe one size larger than average, and Cas brushed it off before handing it to Anna.

"You won't know him, you've never met him, but most of what's in that is Dean," he started to explain, pulling his gaze away before he sank down into the bed. Anna and Balthazar, by contrast, slowly cracked open the old sketchbook, sifting through the pages. Pages that were generally filled with only one face. A young face, one with high cheek bones, a sharp jaw and chin. Big, severe eyes. They were sketchy, none of them colored, but that didn't mean they weren't realistic and emotional all the same.

"You drew these of him?" Balthazar asked. "How'd you ever get away with that?" Because carrying around a bigger than normal sketchbook filled with pictures of the same person over and over was _bound_ to draw attention. Especially in a high school.

"I didn't," Cas replied flatly, staring straight ahead. Blank. "I drew all of those from memory." They glanced over at him, surprise painting their faces as they paused in their browsing. "Dean's the only person I've ever been able to draw without a reference, and get it correct.

"It was like my hand just knew the shape and curves of his face. No thought necessary." Like his hands had always known. He'd drawn hundreds of pictures of Dean in high school, all of which were either destroyed or stashed away. He knew that it was probably an unhealthy or strange thing to have done, but he hadn't meant any harm by it. Back then, Dean had been his muse.

He didn't work in web design because it was his passion. He'd gone to art school in Chicago; he'd wanted to be a painter. But some things just didn't pan out. In any case, once he'd left high school, he'd forbidden himself from ever drawing Dean again. And even though it'd been painful, he'd pulled through. Five years after he'd left Burr, in a fit of failed inspiration, he'd tried to picture Dean's face and draw it again, but had failed.

There'd been nothing left and that was when he'd really realized that he'd moved on.

Back then, at least…

"I haven't drawn him in ten years," he admitted. "I did try once, but I couldn't." Anna and Balthazar had closed the sketchbook, realizing abruptly that Cas wasn't just over-sharing. He was trying to tell them something, in the roundabout way that he sometimes did when he couldn't find the right words.

"I couldn't do it," he shrugged. Bending down suddenly, he reached under his bed and pulled out his portfolio. The one he always had in New York. They'd known he was bringing it with him; he brought it whenever he travelled. And as his friends watched, he gently opened it before reaching in and pulling out a single canvas.

An oil painting, covered on its face with special plastic.

It wasn't huge, though perhaps a few sizes bigger than the sketchbook, and Cas laid it down on the bed for them both to see, delicately pulling the cover away.

"Wow…" Anna awed, Balthazar equally as stunned. "This is amazing Cas. When did you do this?"

"About a week ago," he replied simply, voice straight. "I was up for three nights trying to get something done for work. A big project. And at the end, when it was finally over, I couldn't sleep. So I painted.

"I hardly remember doing it, but this is what I found when I woke up in the morning."

This dark, shadowed painting. Only half of a single man's face was visible, the rest shrouded, but that couldn't hide his identity. He appeared older than in the sketches, ten years older perhaps, and was sad. Very sad.

"It looks so real…" Balthazar muttered. "I mean, I know you can paint some realistic stuff Cas, but this is better than anything I've ever seen you do, in that respect." The man appeared alive on the page. Alive and dead all at the same time.

"Is this what he looks like?" Anna asked quietly. "What he looks like now?" No longer youthful and proud, but worn somehow. With light facial hair where he hadn't had any before. And those freckles, more numerous than they had been in his teenage years.

"Yes," Cas replied, his voice almost inaudible. "Exactly like that."

"And you painted this," Anna started, "before you'd seen him again…?"

"Correct."

"Just a week ago…" she was starting to understand why Cas was telling them this. Because as she pulled her eyes up to focus on her friend, both she and Balthazar started to understand how distressed he really was. He'd turned up to look at them, his blue eyes searching and confused.

He didn't understand it any better than they did.

"Ten years and I couldn't draw him…"

"But a week before you see him again and suddenly this," Anna finished, her voice breathy.

"I don't know why…" Cas's shoulders dropped. It had to be impossible. It just had to be. All of it. Dean acting the way he was, meeting up with him as he had. The painting. Impossible. Impossible. _Impossible_.

"Cas…" Anna took a step towards him, unsure what she was going to say. Yet, before she even had the chance to consider further council, there was a knock on the door.

"Castiel?" his mother. "I'm assuming by now that you've caught up with Anna and Balthazar," they could hear the smile on her face. She thought she'd done quite a surprising, sneaky thing, flying his friends in for Christmas. "Because Chuck and Samandriel just pulled in and I think they'll probably want to be introduced."

"We'll be right out Mrs. Novak," Balthazar replied quickly. Naomi "okayed" in response and no doubt walked away.

Turning their focus back to Cas, his friends were taken aback to find that he'd packed the painting away again and was shoving the portfolio back under the bed. He then grabbed the sketchbook before swiftly returning it to the closet. And when he finally did turn to them, his lips were tight, his previous confusion masked.

Masked, that was, by what looked like nauseous and nerves.

"We should go downstairs," he decided and without a second's pause, he rounded the bed and was at the door. Pulling it open, he glanced back at them only quickly.

Because story-time was over.

Reality had come knocking and now that was what Cas had to deal with.

Despite how anxious doing so might make him.

**oOo**

Sitting back on his couch, Dean allowed his shoulders to drop as he continued to consider the situation. As he'd been doing all day. Because there was, honestly, little else he _could_ do.

Fact. Cas had kissed him.

Okay…

Fact.

He hadn't really minded.

That was the most boggling part. He'd been shocked initially, completely caught off guard and unprepared. So much so that when Cas had apologized and run off, he hadn't realized it'd happened until he was alone. Standing in that open doorway, he'd found his mind numb, his senses frozen. After all, how was he supposed to have acted?

Well, he _knew_ how he was supposed to have acted.

Disgusted. Repulsed. He should have no interest in ever wanting to see Cas again, not after he'd pulled a stunt like that. Yet in a few hours, he was going to get in his car (which he'd had to walk and fetch earlier that morning) and drive to the Novak's. Where Cas was.

And he was actually quite excited over the notion.

But now he knew why; he'd gone over it in his head multiple times. To be honest, he was in a sort of shock over the whole thing, but it was a… glad kind of shock, Relieving. Why?

Because he'd finally had reason to admit that, hey, maybe he liked boys too.

Maybe he liked _Cas_.

It was both shocking to him, personally, and somehow not that unexpected. Maybe he'd known for a while, years even, but just hadn't had any real trigger to consider it. There wasn't an over abundance of gay men in Burr after all, and what few there probably were most definitely kept it to themselves.

Besides, he _did_ like women, there was no questioning that, so he'd never been desperate for a wakeup call.

But now he'd had one.

Thinking back, he considered Cas. All those years ago when he'd plucked up the courage to march into Dean's childhood home and tell him the truth. Back then, Dean hadn't received the information well, but now that he had a broader perspective, he finally found himself wondering why. At that point in his life, he hadn't had any particular views on the homosexual lifestyle, despite what his "friends" might have thought. He'd been simply indifferent, not caring really. And when Cas had kissed him, well… it wasn't bigotry that had lashed back.

No, Dean now realized it'd been fear.

Fear of the fact that, had he not been so afraid, he'd have been flattered.

Ever since that day, Dean had found that, between times living, he'd considered Cas every once in a while; wondered what he'd done with his life. There was just something about the guy that… caught Dean's curiosity. It always had really. Even when they'd been young, he'd been fascinated by him. In high school, that wasn't how he'd viewed it however. He'd considered Cas "weird" and had kept his distance because of it.

Not even touched him, thrown him around, once.

Cas had, honestly, made Dean uncomfortable. Now though… now he understood why.

Maybe, to a certain extent, he'd always been attracted to Cas. Even when he'd been his dweeby high school self, Cas'd been… cute. Strange, but cute. Dean could see that now.

There were many things that "now" currently preoccupied him with actually. For one, what was he supposed to do? Cas had kissed him, which seemed to Dean to be a pretty obvious sign that he was, at least, still attracted to him. How far it went, or how deeply, he couldn't know, but that wasn't exactly relevant at the moment.

Generally speaking, Dean had decided that he should deal with the situation as he would with any _woman_, which was where his previous experiences existed. It wasn't the actual "action" parts that got him however, but whether he even wanted to pursue Cas in the first place.

Despite coming to terms with his apparent attraction to men, it was still… new to him. Yet at the thought of going to the Novak's, of seeing Cas again. And remembering that awkward, silly kiss, Dean practically smiled. There was no doubt he at least wanted to _see_ Cas again. So maybe he should just… go from there. Let things happen maybe.

Yeah, that seemed like a sound idea.

First thing first though, Dean thought as he glanced down at his clothes, which were still the leftovers from the day before. Despite what his brother had said, he wasn't entirely sure his clothes were good enough. For a pub, maybe they were, but some kind of Christmas event at the Novak's?

He still had a few hours left. Maybe he should go shopping or something. He was already finished with his Christmas purchases and he had a little bit left after bills. Maybe he could get something nicer, if not cheap.

Sounded like a plan.

**oOo**

"You did what?" Chuck hissed from his position beside Cas. They were sitting around the dining room table, the five of them. Only Cas was attempting to ignore everyone, his face cradled down in his arms as his hands came up around his head, pulling at his hair. He had his eyes closed, no interest in even staring at the tabletop below his nose, and was trying to ward off the constant headache thrumming against his skull.

"That's what he said he did," Anna verified, shrugging at the gaping Samandriel across from her. "And now 'Dean's' supposed to be joining us for 'cookie frosting.'" She crossed her arms over her breasts.

"Why would he do that?" Chuck asked, leaning back in his chair curiously.

"That is the question, isn't it?" Balthazar interjected with a knowing smile, his eyes diverting back to Cas. Yet still their friend refused to even look up, let alone comment. He did find it annoying, however, how well his Chicago friends and his high school friends were getting along. Weren't they supposed to be discussing each other, feeling each other out? Why did he have to be the center of attention?

Oh, right, because he'd kissed Dean Winchester.

"So you kissed him," Samandriel gestured to Cas, who groaned a little at the actual act being brought into the conversation. "And now he's agreed to come over here… when you're here… since it's your house…" Samandriel glanced to Chuck, who shrugged.

"I… didn't know Dean swung that way…" Chuck assumed.

"He doesn't!" Cas glanced up suddenly, his deep voice severe and penetrating. Anna and Balthazar rolled their eyes. Cas, registering their expressions, slumped his shoulders before collapsing back atop the table, head cradled in his arms once more.

"I tried to tell Cas that the only reason a straight guy would consider coming here after what happened was if he _wasn't_ straight, but he won't buy it," she shrugged. "I don't see how there's any other option however. This Dean guy has to be into him."

"I dunno…" Samandriel sounded doubtful. "Dean Winchester?" He shook his head. "He's like… the stereotypical masculine… dude. I just… he's so… heterosexual…" In his appearance, his actions. His job. As far as stereotypes were concerned, he lacked any and all "gay" qualities.

But what worth were stereotypes?

"Yeah, but, if you think about it," Chuck started thoughtfully, "he's almost hyper-masculine."

"Like he's compensating for something?" Balthazar questioned.

"Mmm, maybe…" Samandriel furrowed his brows, not having ever considered Dean Winchester in this fashion before. Now that he was though, he could almost see a bit of an exaggeration in Dean's behavior. He wasn't like Raphael; he wasn't just a douche. But he did put up this really… macho front. Granted, they lived in rural Kansas, so that wasn't exactly unheard of, but that didn't mean it wasn't worth considering either.

"Well, we'll know when he gets here if he's straight or not," Anna decided, all available eyes falling to her. "Trust me, I'll make sure of that." She smiled, deviously, the other three around the table appearing curious.

She didn't have time to explain however. Within the moment, they all heard a car door slam outside. And seeing as Cas's father was at the church till late and Naomi had only just left to go to the grocery store, it could only be one other person.

Standing abruptly, Anna headed straight from the room to the entranceway. Balthazar followed her, Chuck and Samandriel glancing only quickly to each other before rising to their feet as well. Going to the kitchen, they stood where they were able to see Anna and Balthazar, who were opening the door. Cas stayed in the dining room, head buried, pretending this wasn't happening.

"Hi!" Anna said happily, the man standing before her looking quite taken aback by how she'd flung the door open. "You must be Dean!" She smiled, her pearly white teeth all on display.

"Uh, yeah…" Dean furrowed his brows at her, a little confused by the fact that he was being greeted by some strange woman. Anna, however, ignored his discomfort in favor of giving him a once over. Because he was, well, he _was_ attractive, that was for sure. Broad stature, muscular. Big eyes, softly chiseled face and rounded lips. Yes, she could definitely understand what Cas saw in him, as well as the fact that his painting was probably perfect down to the last freckle bridging Dean's nose.

It was beyond a little eerie.

"Come in then," Anna stepped back, nearly knocking into Balthazar as she smoothly beckoned him in. Still somewhat perplexed by the odd welcome, Dean slowly, hesitantly even, did as she asked and made his way into the strange house, wondering all the while into Cas's whereabouts.

Anna closed the door behind them.

"So," she drew Dean's attention back to her, his eyebrows raised questioningly at her. "I'm Anna," she held out her hand and Dean shook it accordingly. "And this is Balthazar," the same motion was repeated. "We're Cas's friends from Chicago."

"Oh," Dean replied somewhat lamely, not really sure what else he was supposed to say. He glanced quickly at Samandriel and Chuck, who were standing in the doorway with vague smiles on their faces. And it was then, as he dropped his attention back to Anna, that he realized they knew.

They _all_ knew. Cas must have told them.

Lovely…

"You already know Chuck and Samandriel," she continued, ever smiling, and Dean registered somewhere in the back of his mind that she was standing awfully close to him. "Which means all that's left is Cas," she sighed. "But he's not feeling very well anyway, so why don't you hang out with me."

Wow, forward much? At least that was all Dean could think. Right there, in front of all those other guys, and she was saying that?

Was this some kind of joke?

Glancing around again, he tried to read the expressions of the other three, taking note that Samandriel and Chuck were pursing their lips they were trying so hard not to smile. And the Balthazar guy was glancing at the ground, clearly avoiding any sort of eye contact.

Dean pursed his lips. Yes, this was definitely a joke or something…

Or a test.

But why?

Glancing down at Anna again, he narrowed his eyes into her blue ones, taking note that though she acted like a flirtatious twit, her gaze was sharp with intelligence. Guarded intelligence actually, and that was when Dean realized what was going on.

These people weren't simply here to greet him. They were standing up in defense of Cas. They stood around him, watching, waiting. They didn't trust him and were getting between him and the host of the house. He supposed he didn't blame them, but it would have been nice if he hadn't been ganged up on.

Still, he could play their game.

"You know," he allowed a small, sliver of a smile to grace his lips, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned in a little closer to Anna. "You should be careful," she cocked a single brow. "I might take you up on that offer." Her entire demeanor paused then, taking him in and balancing his words.

For extra punch, he did the same as she had and looked her up and down, meeting her gaze again and adding the final, over the top touch. He winked at her.

"Well," she licked her lips, though he could see her thoughts running across her face. Surprise, offense, curiosity. He wasn't a people-person for nothing. "That would be interesting, wouldn't it…?" She hadn't expected him to react as casually as he had. Probably because she was a tall, intimidating, attractive redhead, and when she flirted so openly, Dean was betting most men were taken far aback.

"It really would be," he continued to smile. "Only catch is, I don't make a habit of abusing the good graces of people who invite me into their homes," he glanced around the gracious entranceway only quickly before focusing back in on her. "But, you know," he reached forward, closing much of the distance between himself and her, "if you wanted to meet up later, I might consider it." Taking hold of a long strip of her bright red hair, he ran his pointer finger through it, slowly, never taking his gaze from hers. Even as her blue eyes widened, the rest of the men in the room gaping.

Hey, he could play the game just as well.

"Think it over," he was still smiling. "In the meantime though," he allowed his hand to drop away, backing up suddenly as his demeanor became cold, "I'm going to go find Cas." Smile becoming bitter, he nodded only once before turning away and walking right past Chuck and Samandriel – further into the house.

He left behind a gaping crowd, Anna having joined in their ranks.

"Did that really just happen?" she whispered as she glanced over to Balthazar.

"Well, Anna, perhaps you shouldn't assume that your feminine wiles work on everyone," Balthazar replied with a shrug, his own gape having transformed into a smile. "It would appear that Dean Winchester is quite immune to them. Though I can't say I'm particularly surprised."

"What does that mean?" Chuck questioned.

"It means that you should all be more attentive," he replied. "Did you see his hair?" How nicely he'd gelled it. "And those bowlegs. Now, I'm not saying he's gay," he shrugged, "but boy is definitely about as _straight_ as a paperclip."

Samandriel scoffed. "What? How can you tell?"

"You live in the city long enough, you start to develop people skills," he replied simply, both Samandriel and Chuck furrowing their brows. They weren't sure whether they were supposed to be offended or not.

Dean, however, heard none of their discussion. Rather, he'd rolled his eyes as he'd left them and instead set himself on the hunt for Cas. And, thankfully, it hadn't taken him long to locate him. Seeing him as soon as he'd entered the kitchen, he made his way across the room until he found himself in the half that was made up for dining. And there, at the end of the table with his head buried in his arms, was Cas.

Dean cocked a single eyebrow.

He supposed Cas was probably still suffering from their hangover. Dean was as well. But that aside, he also imagined there was a certain amount of mortification spurring Cas's inclination to hide. Which he could understand. Granted, he wasn't bothered by what Cas had done that morning, but that didn't make it any less gutsy or, well, inappropriate.

Apparently those were two things Cas was especially good at.

Taking a deep breath, Dean glanced down at himself self-consciously, still unsure if he liked the black sweater he'd bought or not, but decided it was too late, in any case. Ignoring it, he made his way towards the table before pulling out a chair and sitting down. Cas was no doubt aware that someone was beside him, but still he failed to so much as twitch.

Dean tried to remain unaffected by the rejection, hoping it was simply Cas being too embarrassed to look up at him. Only problem was, without Cas's support, it was difficult for him to find something to say.

To somehow break the ice.

"So…" he tried to start conversation, but before he could even be given a full chance, the sound of voices coming into the room interrupted him. He sighed.

Yet from within the crook of Cas's elbow, he spotted one blue eye peeking up at him. He grinned only slightly.

"I know you'll all be able to do it," Mrs. Novak as saying as she walked into the kitchen. She was carting grocery bags with her, Chuck also lugging in two more as he followed. Not soon after, the other three trailed, detouring their way into the dining room before sitting down. Dean, defensive, half expected knowing looks or sneaky smiles, but was instead granted masks of total ambiguity.

No one was even acknowledging him.

The change in demeanor kind of slapped him across the face and it took all his control not to look around in confusion. Instead, on his toes, he decided to play everything by ear.

"It's a lot of cookies Mrs. Novak," Chuck replied as he set the bags on the counter. "Even with the six of us, it might be a stretch." He was smiling through his beard however, hinting that he was only feigning his warning.

Mrs. Novak rolled her eyes good humoredly.

"Speaking of six," she finally flashed her attention to Dean, who smiled tightly in response. "Welcome to my home Dean. I hope you've made yourself comfortable."

"It's been super Mrs. Novak," he replied, though he did cast Anna a slight glance. She refused to meet his eyes. "You have a lovely home," he returned his focus to Cas's mother.

"Thank you," she smiled a little wider. "You're welcome anytime honey. Any friends of Castiel's are welcome here." Dean didn't comment then, not entirely sure if he would even characterize him and Cas as friends. But he supposed Mrs. Novak didn't need to know that. "I'm especially glad you're here though Dean." She was looking at in concern now, approaching from the kitchen, and Dean raised his eyebrows curiously.

"Yeah?" He wasn't exactly sure what she meant and glanced to Cas out of the corner of his eyes. But he was anything but helpful.

"Of course," Mrs. Novak was standing beside him now, Dean facing her somewhat uncomfortably. "Jim and I," Cas's father, "have considered you plenty, especially when the holidays come around." Everyone in the room was curious now, Cas even lifting his head to reveal his questioning face. His mother didn't seem to notice however.

"Really…?" Dean wasn't sure what else he was supposed to say.

"Well, we've noticed that since your parents were killed," Dean's green eyes suddenly fell to the side, "that you've kept to yourself. Your parents used to come to church every Sunday, and since they were in that accident, we haven't seen you." Dean wasn't sure, but he was pretty positive Cas was gaping beside him, everyone else in the room looking to each other nervously.

"Ah, well," Dean tried to find something to say. It would appear that Naomi had plenty enough for the both of them however. Though he was wondering if maybe it was his mother's side that Cas had inherited his social inadequacies from.

"I know you were supporting your brother through school, but we wished you would have returned to us," she frowned. "When things are hard, that's the best time to turn your attention to the lord."

"You're… totally right," Dean nodded, gulping in obvious discomfort. "I guess I was just… too busy to even think about… going to… church…" Sure, his parents had gone, but they'd never been strictly religious. It'd been more of a community thing. One that Dean hadn't considered necessary to continue. Though he probably should have expected this. He was in one of the pastor's houses after all.

"Of course you were honey," Naomi was nodding solemnly. "Putting your little brother through college," what little he'd had to pay in any case, "having to support yourself at seventeen. No one blames you. Just… know that if you ever need help, we're always here."

It'd been ten years…

"Of course," Dean smiled tightly. "I'll keep that in mind." Because he really loved all his personal grievances laid out for the entire room to examine. Awesome. Great. _Perfect_.

"What do you do for the holidays Dean?"

"I spend them with my brother," he answered almost a little too quickly, too loudly, and took a deep breath. "He'll be here on Friday."

"Just you and Samuel?"'

"Yes," Dean tried to stop his voice from becoming too tight. "Bobby sometimes, but he has to work this year."

"He goes to Harvard, right?"

"That's right." Dean cursed Burr. He cursed all small towns. He also cursed the fact that him keeping to himself meant that when he did show up, he was barraged with the questions everyone had wanted to ask him over the last _ten years_.

"Does he come home for the summers too?"

"No," Dean verified. "He takes summer classes."

"So you're alone almost all year…"

"Mother!" Cas's deep voice jumped into the conversation abruptly, drawing all eyes his way. "The cookies. We should start or we'll never get done." Cas, of all people, exhibiting tact. Incredible.

"Oh right, of course," Naomi turned abruptly back to the kitchen. "I need to get all that frosting whipped up." She headed over, back turned to the dining area as she rummaged through her different cupboards.

Dean, on the other hand, was sitting stock-still, facing the area where Naomi had previously been standing. He was tense, his lips tight, his green eyes clouded, and everyone else in the room watched him uncomfortably. It was apparent he hadn't appreciated the interrogation, or being so suddenly and explicitly exposed. That was twice since he's entered the house that he'd been cornered.

Maybe he _shouldn't_ have come.

Even Cas could sense his nerves however, and, frowning, he reached out. Tugging lightly, gently, on the sleeve of Dean's sweater, he drew the other man's attention. Whipping around, Dean found himself staring into those deep, blue-blue eyes. They were concerned, understanding, and, most of all, apologetic. Cas hadn't appreciated his mother's behavior any more than Dean.

Forcing a small smile to pull at the corners of his lips, Dean took the comfort and gave it back, reassuring Cas that he wasn't really all that offended or bothered. Mostly because Cas'd had the decency to acknowledge the issue and attempt to right it in his mother's place. Which was enough for Dean. Especially because Cas was now looking at him, which Dean found made everything better. Apparently.

"Here Naomi," Anna rose abruptly from her seat. "Let me help you." Unbeknownst to Cas and Dean, everyone else at the table had watched their exchange, seen the way they'd looked at each other, and immediately realized how personal the interaction had been. Glancing around awkwardly, they'd attempted to find something else to yield their gazes, Anna being the most successful.

"Thank you Anna," Naomi said as she was joined at the counter by the other woman. Together, they started going about gathering the supplies for the frosting in a very clichéd, nineteen-fifties fashion. "You're always so helpful on the holidays," Naomi continued, talking to Anna. "I wish Castiel would find a girl like you." The way she said such, however, made it quite apparent that she wanted Anna to be that girl.

Dean furrowed his brows, watching as Cas's eyes suddenly dropped to the table.

"Like I've said," Anna was smiling, "Cas and I are just friends." Mrs. Novak didn't look convinced however. She apparently had her own agenda when it came to her son's love life. And it was at that moment, as he glanced between Cas and his mother, that Dean realized she didn't know.

Mrs. Novak didn't know her son was gay.

Though, thinking about it logically, Dean couldn't say he was all that surprised. Jim Novak was the pastor of a church that Dean was fully aware frowned upon the homosexual lifestyle. He supposed the only way for Cas to remain in a civil relationship with his parents was if he kept it from them. Dean couldn't even imagine that however, hiding such a huge aspect of his life from his family. From Sammy. Because he knew, if anything came of this "him being attracted to men" thing, his little brother would probably be one of the first to know.

But Cas… he lived in an entirely different state – saw his parents maybe once or twice a year. Dean supposed hiding it probably wasn't that difficult. Still though, how did that feel? Knowing that if his parents were to realize the truth, they'd… would they hate him for it?

It happened, Dean knew. Gay individuals being thrown from their family's lives over something they could do nothing about. And as Dean looked to Cas once again, at the way his whole body had dropped at the mention of him "finding a girl," he realized that such a reality was the one Cas was threatened by all the time.

Lying was the only way he was keeping his family together.

Sympathy welling up in his chest, Dean reached out and, much the same way Cas had done previously, tugged lightly on the other man's sleeve. Flicking those blue eyes back to Dean's, the tortured secret was visible for just a flashing moment before Cas pushed it back down. Dean, lips pursing, tried to get across how sorry he felt for him, that he understood, and Cas, much as Dean had previously, allowed the smallest of smiles to reach his lips. It was hardly there, but Dean could see it.

He could see it all.

"I just find it hard to believe that, living in that big city all these years, he's failed to find even one nice girl," she was still talking to Anna, almost as if Cas wasn't there. As if her will could dictate his life. "You're the only one," she sighed rather dramatically, "so my thoughts can only come to so many conclusions."

Anna smiled then, but decided not to comment. No one did. At least, not on that.

"When's Jim supposed to be back?" Balthazar asked, sounding only of curiosity as he looked into the kitchen. He was hoping, as were most others in the room, that he'd be successful in changing the subject.

Naomi looked to the clock on the wall as Anna turned on the mixer, beginning to get the frosting started.

"He should be home anytime now," she started. "He said he was going to try and get back a little ear-"

She was cut off by the sound of the front door coming open.

A few moments later, a single man walked in. He was wearing a full, black suit with a very sharp looking blue tie. His coat was long, black as well, and he carried a briefcase. Graying hair atop his head, he shared in many of Cas's facial characteristics. Though his eyes were brown instead of blue. It would appear Cas had inherited those from his mother.

"Well, this is quite the crowd we have here," he started, a soft smile gracing his aged face. He had a deep voice, though not as deep as Cas's, and there wasn't any gravel to it. No, it was smooth and easy. "I knew we were going to need help, but I hadn't anticipated this many." His eyes went from one of them to the next, his gaze lingering on Dean a little longer.

"Well, Anna and Balthazar got here this morning, and I figured why not have all of Castiel's old friends over," Naomi explained as she greeted her husband, leaning up and kissing him rather tritely on the cheek. His heavy brown eyes looked to her only quickly before he focused back up on the younger crowd.

"I think it's wonderful that you've all come," he decided. "It's good to know Castiel has such faithful friends." And even though they were all adults, and should be able to relate to _other_ adults, none of the younger generation had anything to say. Rather, they just flashed Jim tight smiles.

Not fazed by the childish reaction, Jim made his way into the dining room and straight over to his son, who was watching him the whole way. Upon the two of them ending up next to one another, Jim standing between Dean and Cas, the father of the house placed his hand on his son's shoulder and continued to exhibit that vague smile.

"Sorry I haven't been around very much since you got here Castiel," he started, not attempting to hide or be ashamed of what he was apologizing for. "I've barely seen you since you've gotten here." His hand squeezed atop Cas's shoulder a little tighter.

"It's nothing you should worry yourself over father," Cas assured. "I understand that you're busy." Dean wasn't going to deny it, this was probably the most formally awkward family he'd ever encountered. No wonder Cas was so socially inept.

"I appreciate that," Jim nodded once.

"You really have been busy," Naomi interjected, almost as though she was going to somehow alleviate the stiffness of the room with her over-exaggerated attempts. "We haven't even gotten a Christmas tree yet." There were decorations up and around the house, but no tree. Generally Jim was required to assist in that manner.

"Yes, I know," Jim's hand slipped from his son's shoulder. Cas, in turn, reached to where it'd been and unconsciously straightened his sweater. "And I'm afraid it will have to be postponed yet. I have to be back at the church in a few hours."

Naomi frowned, but it was an accepting frown. Proud even, that her husband knew his duty.

"Perhaps I can assist in that respect," Cas interjected.

"Yes, perhaps that would be a good idea," Jim had glanced back down at his son. "I suppose things aren't like they used to be," there was only a slight fondness to his expression then as he took in his son's gaze. "You're more than capable of organizing such a load on your own now. No need for me to do the heavy lifting." Considering this, Dean glanced from Jim to Cas, thinking not for the first time how much Cas had changed in the last ten years.

He wasn't that skinny little dweeb anymore, as Dean had noticed. He hadn't really considered it much farther than that however, but how that he did, he realized for the first time that Cas hadn't just filled out, but he was in… pretty good shape. Staring at him, Dean took in the way his sweater dropped over his broad shoulders, how his thin yet solid chest breathed in and out. He lacked some of the inherent breadth that Dean had, but he was in no way scrawny.

Dean forcefully pulled his green eyes back to Jim, lips tightening.

"And we'll help of course, if that's what needs to be done," Balthazar assured with a smile.

"You have my thanks," Jim nodded before glancing back to his wife. "I just stopped by to pick up those roughs I was working on last night." They were speaking above everyone else's heads. "I forgot them this morning."

"Ah, of course, Naomu headed out of the room, Jim rounding the table and following after her. "I put them in the desk and…" Her voice faded, the younger generation left on their own.

Watching his parents go, Cas visibly pursed his lips, those top-heavy, raised lips, and Dean allowed his focus to fall entirely on him. However, his heart dropped when, a few seconds later, Cas's eyes fell to the table. The blue was sad somehow, dejected, and Dean was abruptly thankful, despite how horrible it seemed, that he didn't have such a relationship with his parents.

The lies, the secrets. The shame. Yes, his parents were dead, and he hated that, but it was worse knowing that, if your parents found out who you really were, you'd be dead to _them_.

Like a constant countdown. Paranoia. Over something Cas could do nothing about.

Dean, lips tightening, sighed, and was even more dejected when Cas closed his eyes and placed his head back in the crook of his elbows. Facedown, he shut out the world.

Dean didn't blame him.

* * *

**A/N:** I think the part where Cas and Dean are tugging on each other's sweaters is adorable. It shows that, even without words, they can communicate, which displays how strong of a connection they have. I mean, the painting and all adds to that, but there needs to be some on Dean's side too. And poor Dean, Naomi getting into his business, lol.

But, in any case, Dean is still at the Novak's, which means there's still plenty of time for something to happen, right? We shall see… Or, rather, I have, and you will!

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it! And happy birthday to me, one day late!

Love you all! **REVIEW PLEASE!**


	7. Chapter 6: Between the Trees

**Tipping the Hourglass**

_Chapter 6: Between the Trees_

"I can't believe how fast you are at doing that," Chuck was saying as they exited Naomi's black SUV. "I mean, you used that knife like a…"

"Like a paint brush?" Anna offered with a smile.

"Yeah! And each freakin cookie was a damn masterpiece," Chuck slapped Cas on the back, his old friend glancing up at him only quickly. He didn't speak however, instead allowing the conversation to carry on without him.

"Don't you know?" Balthazar secured his scarf more tightly around his neck. "Cas is a sellout." Dean, who was standing beside Balthazar and remaining awkwardly silent, furrowed his brows in questioning. He wasn't entirely sure if he was allowed to speak or not, seeing as these were all Cas's friends and not his. Because, well, not even Cas was his friend, really. He was like… a sixth wheel or something.

"Cas is quite the accomplished artist," Balthazar explained once he caught sight of Dean's expression, smiling more to himself than anything. "He's brought some pieces with him. Maybe he'd let you have a look." Cas turned and threw Balthazar a pointed look, one that meant nothing to Dean and only served to confuse him.

"Did you really bring some of your stuff?" Samandriel asked as he jogged through the light snow up to Cas. "I haven't seen any of your stuff since high school." In other words, they wanted to see how much he'd improved. Because it was apparently still a commodity to see how Cas had changed since last he'd been in Burr.

"Hey, look, here's the entrance," Anna interjected, pointing out a fact they could all see very well for themselves. It changed the subject however.

"I hope there's a good one," Chuck frowned as they entered the local tree farm, his voice chilly in the night air. "It is a little late after all." Which was true. Christmas was coming up within the week. Most people had put up their trees and decorations some time before.

"I'm sure there will be," Samandriel replied. "I mean, it's not like we're the only ones here or something." The place was actually dotted with quite a few people; families, couples. They weren't the only ones behind schedule.

"Well, it's really cold out here," Anna pointed out as they all grouped together just inside the entrance to the farm. "I don't know about you guys, but I'd like to get this done as quickly as possible." Hugging herself, she shivered once as the men nodded in agreement.

"Let's split up then," Samandriel decided. "Cover more ground that way. When we find a good one, we'll just text Cas, alright?" They all nodded. The only question that still remained was _how_ they were going to split up. It only remained a question for a moment however.

"C'mon Samandriel!" Chuck grabbed his friend by the collar and dragged him off to the right side of the farm.

"Balthazar," was all Anna had to say before she linked arms with him. Together, they went to the left, Cas and Dean left standing at the entrance, refusing to look at each other.

Annoyed at his friends' antics as they disappeared into the trees, Cas tightened his lips and tried to figure out what he was supposed to do. Hesitantly, he allowed his eyes to trail to Dean, who was doing the same to him. He seemed to be taking the situation with a lighter attitude however, grinning slightly when their gazes met.

Cas, not understanding such an expression, immediately glanced away before heading off towards the trees. Dean, surprised at his abrupt departure, kicked into gear behind him, following what he quickly determined was a speed-walking Cas. As if the other man was trying to escape. The idea didn't make Dean feel all that great and he frowned.

Into the trees they headed and soon they were surrounded by the moderately tall exhibits, snow crunching beneath their feet. Cas slowed occasionally to look at one, but had seemingly surveyed it and was on to the next as soon as Dean had reached his side. This continued for some minutes, Dean growing more and more irritated as Cas attempted to avoid him in plain sight.

Not to sound like a six-year old, but it was actually kind of hurting Dean's feelings. So instead of voicing his concerns like an adult, he took the rout of a child and instead allowed his sarcasm to do the talking for him.

"So are you just going to keep pretending I don't exist," he said loud enough for Cas to hear, "or should I just leave?" He was honestly thinking about it. If Cas wasn't going to even acknowledge him, then what was the point of even being there in the first place?

Cas paused then, seeming to falter in his steps before continuing on as he'd been.

Dean growled. Watching Cas carefully, he narrowed his eyes as he plotted the other man's movements. Predicting his trajectory around a tree to their upper right, Dean broke his pattern of trailing after and instead rounded the pine going the opposite way Cas had. It was because of this that, seconds later, they practically crashed into each other.

"Hey!" Dean stated bitterly when Cas was forced to take a step back away from him, those blue eyes staring up at him in wide-eyed alarm. "My name's Dean Winchester. I'm looking for Castiel Novak. Maybe you've seen him." He allowed that cynical smirk to attach itself to his lips, Cas recovering enough to glare.

"Maybe he doesn't want to see you," Cas's deep voice was sassy in his defensive response, Dean's lips forming an "o" of dismay as Cas turned on his heel and started marching back into the trees again. Dean chased him, no longer quite so irritated. He'd gotten a response, which was better than nothing.

"I find that hard to believe," Dean replied, keeping up just on Cas's heels. "He did kiss me after all."

They nearly had a collision then.

Stopped dead, Cas stood motionless before Dean for only a second before turning to face him. His lips were tight, his jaw clenched, and Dean raised his eyebrows curiously.

"I apologized for that," Cas ground out. "I'd appreciate it if you'd just drop it." And not speak so loudly about it in a town where anyone and everyone knew his parents.

"Maybe I don't want to," Dean crossed his arms over his chest and Cas breathed deeply out through his nose. He wasn't able to hide the anxiety that flashed through those blue eyes however. Dean had caught it just as quickly as it'd been whisked away.

"I don't know what you want from me," Cas eventually started, his voice deeper than was even usual for him. "You already knew that I'm…" he sighed. "So I fail to see what you gain from tormenting me about this. It was a mistake and it was inappropriate. Again, I apologize." Not even giving Dean the chance to reply, he turned and headed on once again.

"Hey!" Dean continued after him, trying to piece together what he'd just heard. "Cas, wait!" He almost had to jog to catch him. "Will you… fuckin' slow down? I'm not trying to… 'torment' you."

"Then what do you want?" Cas was facing him again, the two of them practically nose to nose seeing as Dean had barely had time to slow down. Their breathing was heavy, Cas's eyes again flashing with that anxiety. Only this time he couldn't hold it down and it quickly manifested into fear. His next words were weak, breaking even. "Why are you doing this?" Dean had barely made out what he'd said his words had been so soft. And so…

Hurt.

There was so much uncertainty and Dean felt his own chest tighten as he took it in.

"I'm not… doing anything," Dean tried to explain, his own tone falling quieter as well. "I just…" He what? He'd found the kiss both oddly enjoyable and interesting, and so here he was?

"Dean, please," Cas took a step away from him, eyes falling to the snow. "I don't think I can… do this… with you…" He shook his head. "Not you."

"What's wrong with me?" Dean asked, not even sure he knew what Cas was referencing anyway. But that didn't stop him from getting offended. "I know I'm not some Chicago college graduate like your friends, or a dentist, or…" whatever the hell it was Chuck did with his degree. Because he knew he had one.

"That doesn't have anything to do with it Dean," Cas replied quietly, those blue eyes becoming more and more terrified as they searched Dean's. "I can't handle this… with you, okay?" He shook his head. "Not you."

"What makes me some kind of exception?" To what, Dean didn't know, but he was being singled out in any case.

"Because you're Dean Winchester," Cas replied, as if it should be totally obvious.

"Yeah, I am," Dean raised his hands questioningly. "So what?"

"You were _everything_," Cas replied quickly, too quickly. "And I can't- I just-" He finally looked away, appeared to Dean to be a wounded animal, and that was when he finally got what Cas was getting at. Shoulders dropping, his sighed.

"Cas, high school is over," he muttered, his own gaze going south as well. "I'm not… that guy anymore."

"You'll always be that guy," Cas murmured.

Gaping slightly, Dean hadn't anticipated the hurt those few words dropped down on him. Hadn't they already been over this? He'd apologized. And Cas had said he'd forgiven him. He'd thought they were past that.

"Cas," Dean tried to ignore how his voice cracked. "Look at me," he shook his head. "I'm nobody. I am literally the equivalent of white trash at this point." Cas's eyes flicked up to him then, brows furrowed. "You're so far beyond me now. Besides…" he tried not to sound upset. "You said you forgave me."

"Dean…" Cas shook his head, that fear abruptly evaporating as he sighed. "No… That's not what I meant." Dean wasn't sure he wanted to hear what he'd meant. "I told you I never held any of that against you. That's… not the Dean Winchester you were to me." His posture relaxed slightly. "It never was."

Dean, more confused now than ever, didn't have to voice as much. It was written all over his face.

"Dean, you were everything," Cas said again. "To me." Pause. "Which is why I can't… I don't understand…" He couldn't even finish his train of thought, his lips pursing as he looked away.

And that was when Dean realized what he meant. Why that terror had returned yet again to Cas's eyes. He wasn't wary because of the previous treatment he'd received from Dean and his friends. He was so because of what he'd said that day ten years ago, up in Dean's old room. Because old haunts still stung.

Dean could get that.

"Cas…" he took a step closer, ashamed when Cas visibly closed up further, his whole body hunching defensively. "I'm not… I'm sorry…" He didn't even know what he was apologizing for. But the words wouldn't come; he didn't know how to communicate how he was feeling. Why he felt the way he did.

He was just as scared as Cas.

Reaching out once the distance between them had diminished some, he allowed his hand to rest lightly on Cas's shoulder, the other one following shortly after until the other man was caught securely in his arms. Turning up suddenly, Cas was staring at him with that wide-eyed terror, that gaping mouth that he'd worn that very morning when Dean had caught him trying to escape the apartment.

It was an expression Dean was slowly beginning to hate.

"Why are you doing this…?" Cas practically whimpered up at him – like some kind of whipped puppy – and Dean wished he could give him a better answer.

"I don't know…" he answered honestly, his tone shaky. "I don't know." All he could do was follow his instinct, the closest thing he had to certainty. So with that in mind, the two of them surrounded by the bows of pines, he thought of that morning, when Cas had kissed him, and how much he'd wanted that feeling back since it'd happened.

Ignoring any sense of warning blinking in his brain, he leaned forward and, despite how Cas's eyes widened further, allowed his lips to gently press to Cas's, a rush flaring up through his whole body as he did. Despite how Cas failed to respond.

He wasn't exactly sure what he was going for, especially when considering how shocked those blue eyes appeared as they stared into his, and instead of considering it, he decided to ignore it. Allowing his eyes to close, he pressed a little harder, wanting to spur a response out of the other man. Needing to get reciprocation.

And Cas, who wasn't sure if he was petrified or melting, slowly agreed that maybe it didn't matter so much. Despite how his head was pounding on him to freak out, he instead decided to follow suit and close his own eyes. He blocked out his doubts and instead zeroed in on the lips against his own. How they skillfully tried to pry his lips apart. Desperately searched for him to give some of it back.

And after what was probably far too long, he did locate the motor skills necessary to accomplish the feat. Allowing his lips to loosen slightly, he returned the gestured just as it was retreating. Just as Dean had given up and was pulling back.

Blinking their eyes open, they both found each other once again, Cas more shocked now than anything. Despite this however, he found the tips of his fingers snapping with nerves at his sides, his brain narrowing down its concentration to the rounded lips before him. For a moment, his gaze flicked between the green and those, processing.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the notion that Dean Winchester had kissed _him_ sprung to life. It surged forward, rocking his whole body into action.

Reaching out, he found his hands inside Dean's jacket, gripping his sweater-clad sides as he pushed himself back into those lips. Eyes closed, he was chest to chest with the other man, that telltale electricity sparking through him as Dean willingly met the return kiss. Cas didn't have to look to know Dean had closed his eyes again. He knew it from the intensity of his lips, how they moved in junction with his own. Like starving animals, they were abruptly ravaging each other's mouths, Cas finding himself lost in the sensation of something he'd never thought he'd ever have.

Dean Winchester, this near to him, those broad arms reaching around his neck as they pushed closer. As Cas allowed his fingers to feel through the fabric of his sweater to the heat and muscle beneath it. Never in his life had he been this close to Dean.

Never had he fathomed it possible.

Yet, despite how he never wanted this impossible moment to end, Cas eventually found himself running out of air. Dean too, their breathing becoming labored. Chests heaving, they were forced to suddenly break, the need for oxygen driving a wedge between their lips. But Cas, he was desperate. So many times before, years before, had he imagined this. Fantasized about it. He refused to open his eyes, even as Dean did. Leaning forward, he kissed that bottom lip, which was hanging open as breath was caught above it. But he didn't care that Dean was trying to breathe, that he wasn't responding.

He didn't care.

Wanting that leather and spice flesh again, his fingers tightened around the sweater's fabric, his mouth exploring places he'd never considered he'd be able to touch. Lips light, feathering, he trailed kiss after kiss from Dean's lips across his cheek, which was only slightly littered with prickling facial hair. He relished every touch, reminding himself to remember the way Dean's ear connected to his cheek as he pushed himself even closer to the body before him.

He touched his lips down, across that chiseled jaw, back again to the corner. Down, down that pulsing neck. A heartbeat he could feel as he trailed towards that bobbing apple in the middle.

"Cas…" Dean's voice was rough above him, probably surprised even, but Cas didn't listen. He found that gulping orb, his hands trailing under the leather coat as they reached around to the back. "Cas!" Dean tried again, his voice trying to be forceful as his hand found its way into Cas's dark hair. "Cas… stop."

"No," Cas barely registered the way his voice growled the response, his lips still dotting Dean's throat. He found himself sinking lower, his lips lining the collar of Dean's sweater as he continued around to the other side. Unexplored territory he was fully intent on mapping at that very moment.

"Cas…" Dean was having trouble breathing, his hand attempting to grip tighter to Cas's hair, but failing as his fingers weakened over and over again. "Someone… someone's going to see us…"

"I don't care," Cas's voice was that deep growl again and Dean was surprised he was even still standing. Instead, his thoughts dropped abruptly lower, his body reminding him that though Cas was currently assaulting his neck – the kissing growing somewhat harsher – that didn't change the fact that their bodies were now pressed as closely as their clothes would allow.

Lips trailing back across Dean's other cheek, he was jolted into surprise when suddenly Cas's tongue trailed shortly over the skin linking his ear to the rest of his face. And his body responded in kind, his hips abruptly thrusting forward into the man before him. Cas grunted shortly, his own torso moving slightly forward, which was almost too much for Dean, as it would turn out.

It was strange to him, how he was practically turning to putty in Cas's arms. Usually he was the one putting forth the sensual efforts, women falling apart in his hold. He'd never been on the receiving end before, which was leaving him quite helpless. Especially because Cas was turning out to be much more forceful than he'd anticipated.

Yet, oddly enough, despite how… vulnerable the lack of control made him feel, he also… kind of liked it.

Someone taking care of him for once.

Blinking, Dean shook the thought from his head. No, that didn't matter. Not now. He _had_ to take control since it was becoming more and more apparent that Cas wasn't going to. He said he didn't care, but Dean knew he did. And so, his brain grappling with what self-control was still there, Dean latched his hands onto Cas's shoulders before, quite roughly actually, shoving him backwards.

Cas's lips pulled despairingly from the corner of Dean's mouth, the skin echoing with the heated touches. But Dean pulled his strength forward and, even when Cas tried to fight him and come back, kept the other man at bay, arms extending to their full length as he tried to manage the situation.

"Cas!" Dean snapped, those blue eyes flicking up to his. "We need to stop."

Blinking, it was almost as though a light had been switched in Cas's brain. Backing away abruptly, all touch was severed between them, cold like a vacuum. They were both still breathing heavily, Cas taking in Dean's flushed face as his confusion sorted itself out in his head.

Part of him couldn't believe, didn't want to believe, that what had happened had just… happened. He was afraid of it, of what he'd just done with Dean. What did it mean? He wanted to ask, but was too afraid to do that as well. But then, there was another part of him, a part that echoed of his high school years, that wanted nothing more than to jump Dean right then and there. Despite how it baffled him, it was suddenly possible and all that pent up desire was pulsing. Years and years of him keeping it sealed up and in one single moment, the lock was broken. Abruptly the idea of being with Dean in every way imaginable was assaulting him, pressuring him to ignore everyone and everything around them. To push the man before him to the ground and ravage his entire body, right there in the snow.

The pull was so great he feared he'd actually do it.

Instead however, because his logic was tugging just as equally hard against his carnal longings, he was stuck simply staring at Dean, frozen to the snow.

If the other man was uncomfortable with what had just happened, or surprised even, Cas didn't take note of it. Rather, Dean was simply trying to allow his thoughts to catch up with the moment. Yes, he'd been the one to initiate the contact, but he hadn't expected the gusto with which Cas had countered. And as he took in those blue eyes staring at him, he realized that this wasn't anywhere near the end of what had just happened.

No, not with a gaze that intense.

Abruptly, Dean felt naked under the scrutiny, as if Cas was slowly stripping him with his eyes. He'd never seen such a penetrating, heavy look in that blue, and he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Part of him felt violated that such a severe search would be made of him, while another part of him was _entirely_ turned on. The look in Cas's eyes wasn't dangerous in the most typical sense of the word, but within the notion that, were they alone, Dean would have no choice but to give in. It was _that_ powerful, that… sexual.

Everything Cas wanted from him was spelled out in that stare, and Dean felt inclined to give in to him, if only to adhere to the message swimming in those blue depths.

Who knew Cas could be so… animalistic.

Or that a pair of eyes could be so entirely erotic. But that was what it was. Bedroom eyes. From a bedroom with dirty sheets and stained carpet. Where the lights flickered and trains shook the walls outside. Where everything was illicit and needed and ground out all at the same time.

A place where bodies molded and minds evaporated.

Dean found that he had to look away.

Yet still he could feel those eyes on him, feel his own yearning to give in. To let Cas do whatever it was that was going through his head. He'd never felt so exposed in his life. But there was something about Cas, something about his silently dominating stature, that made Dean weak when he shouldn't have been. When he'd never been before.

He wanted to say that this development wasn't good, but part of him wanted it _so bad._ To forget rules and expectations, his masculine efficiency, and just let himself be taken. To surrender and not be the one in control. Never had the idea been an option for him; he'd always had to take charge, deal with everything. Ever since his parents had died.

But maybe yielding for this, for only this, for Cas, wouldn't be so bad. God knew he didn't know anything about… gay… this… whatever…

He really didn't need to go there.

"Hey, you guys find anything?" Snapping their gazes around like deer waiting to be pounced, both Cas and Dean stared on, wide-eyed, as Chuck and Samandriel approached from around the trees. "Cuz we think we found one…" They didn't fail to sense the tension in the air, whatever kind of tension it may be.

"Awesome," Dean stated rather loudly. "Let's see it." Hunkering forward, he hastily headed towards the two who'd just intruded, both of them turning abruptly when it was apparent Dean was in a hurry. Leading the way through the trees, they glanced back every once in a while, curious looks on their faces, but didn't say anything.

Dean, however, could still feel Cas's eyes on him. It made him uncomfortable, but in a good way. He knew the other man was close behind him, but still he felt his nerves snapping. Like any moment he'd be jumped and smothered again.

Which would probably be okay with him, albeit unrealistic.

"This one," Chuck and Samandriel stopped before a full, medium sized tree, Anna and Balthazar already there. "It should fit in your living room pretty good, right?" Chuck continued, his gaze falling back on Cas, who took a little longer than he should have to answer.

"Probably," was all he said. It was taking his full concentration to pretend to care about the tree with Dean only a few feet away. He just couldn't understand it, what had happened between them, and he knew he was missing potential clues by ripping his eyes from Dean. Among other things.

"Then let's get it already and go," Balthazar was rubbing his arms, apparently cold.

"Cas, why don't you go get the car," since it was his mother's and all, "and we'll go get one of the guys who work here to chop it down." Lips pursing, Cas supposed there wasn't much argument for that. Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he headed back towards the entrance, his eyes lingering on Dean for a few moments too long before he was disappearing into the trees. Dean had met his gaze, which had only made tearing himself away that much harder.

Cas frowned. Behind him, his friends were probably hunting around for help, which wouldn't take long. Picking up his pace, he headed as quickly as he could to get the car and pull it up closer, the distance between him and Dean seeming colder and colder the wider it grew. He didn't want that, the heat to evaporate. That was the last thing he wanted. Because if it did, then his chances might slip away too.

He walked a little faster.

"Where you off to in such a hurry?"

Cas stopped dead.

His entire form deflated.

"I wondered if I'd see you again," Raphael continued, Cas, lips tight, slowly turning to face him. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to it." He was alone, that much Cas could make out. He didn't dwell on the fact however. "Do you even remember what happened the last time we talked, or were you too trashed?"

"I remember," Cas replied shortly.

"Well that's a relief," Raphael was frowning. "I wouldn't want to have to remind you of what you said." His tone was threatening, as it always was, and Cas ignored the way his stomach twisted. He wasn't in high school anymore; he wasn't helpless. He'd taken self-defense classes, martial arts. Raphael didn't scare him.

"I'd rather not get into this with you," Cas explained coldly. "Our father's are working together. I think it'd be a nice change of pace if we could get along as well." And he wasn't lying. Truly, if whatever hatred Raphael held for him would just go away, it'd make both their live easier.

"I really don't see that becoming possible," Raphael replied with a shrug. "Your father did just swoop in and take over. Despite the civil attitude, my father didn't exactly appreciate it." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's only one year," Cas replied, trying not to sound irritated. "Everything with the church will be back in your father's hands next year." When his parents came to visit him in Chicago again.

"You know, I just don't think that's good enough for me," Raphael huffed in a rather exaggerated manner. "And you know, I have quite the temper."

"I'm aware," Cas's teeth gritted.

"And it's not like my father could be angry with me if I took some of it out on you," he shrugged. "You're not a member of the church anymore, so you're not exactly on the 'keep safe' list. Tell me," he furrowed his eyebrows, "do you even go to a church up there, or have you sunk to the lows of all those artsy sinners in the city?" He'd taken a few steps closer, Cas's eyes narrowed.

"I don't think my religious affiliations are any of your concern," he ground out.

"God, I think, would say different."

"And you speak for god?"

"More so than you do," Raphael sounded quite certain. "Did you know Cas that I'm engaged?" It seemed a random thing to bring up, but Cas didn't allow it to faze him. "We've been together four years now. It's interesting, isn't it, what your father says about you. Haven't had a girlfriend the whole time you've been gone. I find that a little difficult to believe." He cocked a single eyebrow.

"Again, I fail to see how that's any of your business," Cas replied stiffly, though his heart had sped up a little in his chest.

"It's my business if it needs to be," Raphael replied. "Especially if you're hiding something." He was slowly getting closer, Cas standing his ground resolutely. "You do come from a home of god after all. Hate to consider that maybe you're dragging sin around with you, dirtying your father's good name."

"My presence is no dirtier than yours," Cas stated firmly. "Tell me Raphael, that fiancé of yours. Have you beaten her lately? Or have you been saving all that energy for me?" The slight smacked Raphael, hard, and his lips pulled into snarl. Cas knew that by saying something like that, he was instigating the situation. But he honestly didn't care. He was so tired of running.

And hiding.

"Watch you're mouth," Raphael hissed.

"Or what?" Cas practically spit the words. But he knew "what." He'd been through it all ten years before. Because it honestly didn't take much to get Raphael physical. Cas's mere presence had seemed to set him off once, so add foul words and he was bound to lose it.

That aside, Cas was sure Raphael had been gearing up for this. A person like him _would_ look forward to getting into a fight with someone over nothing.

Obviously angry and confrontational, Raphael picked up his pace abruptly, placing himself directly in front of Cas as his arm pulled back. He was going in for the hit. Yet there was an oddly calm sensation filtering through Cas, as if the whole thing was happening in slow motion. He _wasn't_ afraid. Instead, when that fist came flying, he felt his reflexes, the ones he'd honed since college, react without any prompting.

Reaching up, the side of his hand easily blocked the blow, throwing it to the side and out of range. And Raphael, so caught off guard by the offensive, nearly stumbled back. Unfortunately for him however, Cas caught him. Grabbing the very hand that had previously been set on course for his face, Cas bent it abruptly back and down – unnaturally so.

Exclaiming in pain, Raphael eye's widened, staring at his victimized hand as Cas continued to bend it back. Casualty to the pain, Raphael had no choice but to curve his arm in a way that would lessen it, his whole body lowering to the ground as he did. With stoic force, Cas continued to press him down until his old nemesis was on his knees in the snow, gasping against the bones grinding in his wrist, threatening to crack.

Cas's lips tightened.

"You may have remained here," he started, stare cold upon Raphael, "in Burr, where the past and the present are always the same. But I didn't and you would do well to remember that." Expression still empty, Cas held that hand back painfully for some moments longer, as if driving his point home. When finally Raphael closed his eyes, giving into the pain, Cas released him, shoving him back harshly. He landed rear first in the snow, his injured hand cupped in the other. He didn't catch Cas's eye again.

And so, without much more thought on the subject and deciding he'd put Raphael in his place, Cas turned and continued on his way back to his mother's car.

He didn't see the way those angry, dark eyes glanced back up at him, narrowed and severe. He didn't see the hate or the revenge.

He didn't see the threat.

**oOo**

It was nearing eleven now. The cookies were packed up and ready to be loaded in the morning. The tree was vertical, set in its stand, and most were in the living room with Naomi, decorating how she saw fit. Dean, however, had needed to remove himself from the situation. Between the hints Naomi made about her son and Anna being in a relationship, the awkwardness with which all of Cas's friends addressed him, and those penetrating blue eyes, he'd just had to take a break. Having located a glass, he'd filled it with water from the tap and was leaning over the counter, slowly drinking it down.

He'd closed his eyes, attempting to calm his nerves. As he'd been trying to do since the encounter with Cas at the tree farm. But the task had proven nearly impossible, no thanks to an aforementioned man. Nothing in Cas's demeanor had changed since they'd broken apart. He was still floating around with that sensually dragging look in his eyes, one that he set on Dean as often as possible. And every time he did, Dean had no choice but to look back, his breath coming up sharply. He could see everything in those eyes. Not in pictures or words, but in intentions. Emotions. Things he shouldn't be able to so blatantly recognize, but that Cas was practically shouting at him. Silently shouting.

Penetrating his skull like a knife.

He took another drink of water, but it helped little.

"You look a little out of breath," Balthazar had apparently followed him into the kitchen, Dean turning to face the man that stood behind him, a knowing smirk on his face. "Curious, isn't it, how that happens."

Dean glared at him. "Funny how some things aren't your business."

"Hey," Balthazar raised his hands in a surrendering fashion. "I'm not making any assumptions." Still grinning, he made his way towards Dean, leaning against the counter beside him. "I was just curious is all."

"Of course you were," Dean replied, straight faced. He didn't mean to be so… sharp, but his stomach was twisted in so many knots that he couldn't really help it. Mostly he wanted to talk to Cas alone, but then part of him also didn't want that. Because he had the feeling that being alone with Cas would only lead to… But the idea of that made him want it again. It was all very confusing.

"It's just that, for those of us in the know," Balthazar shrugged, "we can definitely tell there's something up with the way Cas has been looking at you. Just… wondering what spurred it is all."

Dean rolled his eyes and stared back down at his water.

"Again, it's really not any of your business," he argued, but only got a patient, sidelong glance from Balthazar. He sighed. There was a little voice in the back of his head however that was claiming it might not be a bad idea to tell Balthazar. He knew Cas after all. He might have some valuable insight. "We might have…" he gave in, "made out a little bit." If that was what it could be called.

He shrugged, still intent on his glass.

"_Really_?" Balthazar sounded honestly surprised, his eyes widening slightly. "No wonder he's…" His words trailed off and Dean, eyebrows furrowed, glanced up at him. The only thing he could gather however was that the other man was looking behind, so Dean turned to do the same.

He was presented with those blue eyes all over again.

Cas was there, a stack of plates in his hands. Presumably from the "snacks" Naomi had ushered into the living room about a half an hour before for everyone. He didn't even bother looking between Dean and Balthazar as he approached the counter, no, his focus was entirely on Dean. Dean, who was standing, apparently, before the spot where Cas had to set the dishes. Because those blue eyes, churning like the ocean's surface at a distance, were coming closer and closer and it wasn't until they were directly in front of him that Dean realized he should probably move.

Stepping to the side, nearly running into Balthazar, he made room for Cas, who didn't bother looking where he was setting the dishes as he did. No, his eyes were glued to Dean the whole time. He abandoned the plates on the counter, slowly turned, and only pulled his stare away as he left the kitchen again.

No words were exchanged.

"Wow…" Balthazar muttered as Dean, eyes wide and intent, watched Cas's every retreating step. His brain told him that Cas looked extremely good in those pants and he had to stop himself from following after in pursuit. "It's like…" Balthazar's voice finally drew his attention and Dean flicked his focus to him. "Like he's in… heat or something."

Dean pursed his lips at the crude comparison, no matter how true it was.

"I'm serious!" Balthazar defended with a laugh. "Not that I really blame the guy."

"What's that mean?" Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

"It _means_," Balthazar ignored the attitude, "that Cas had… feelings for you for a long time. However long he did while you two were in high school, and then it took him years afterwards to really… move on. Then he comes back here and suddenly you're interested?" Dean looked away, ignoring how his cheeks pinked. "Cas probably has years worth of… 'Dean feels' pumping through him." He'd made air quotes with his fingers. "I'd watch out."

"What? Why?"

"Because he'll probably jump your bones the next chance he gets," Balthazar laughed.

Dean glared. But, again, he couldn't ignore the truth to the words. It was written all over and inside the stares Cas was throwing at him. Even the most oblivious individual could see that. Which was probably why Naomi hadn't caught on.

As far as she was concerned, her baby boy was straight. She might want to try another go at the lottery though, or so Dean figured. Odds were probably more in her favor then.

"Only question now," Balthazar shrugged, "is whether you want to let him." Those words echoed in Dean's head for a moment, his brain still considering them even as Balthazar walked away, headed back into the living room. He had to blink away the images that were flashing through his head however; they were becoming far too graphic. Not only that, but it was slightly… confusing to him. Not so much in an emotional sense, Dean wasn't shy when it came to sexual matters, but in the… physical sense.

He knew next to nothing about having sex with another dude.

Okay, stop thinking about it.

Shaking his head, Dean pushed himself from the counter and walked pointedly back into the living room. He tried to ignore thoughts of Cas, looking instead to the Christmas tree. As if that was going to be much of a distraction. It was fully decorated now however, everyone sitting back on the couches admiring it. Except for a certain pair of blue-eyes, which trailed Dean as he entered and sat on the opposite side of the room.

"You are all certainly efficient," Naomi started after a moment. "Got all the cookies frosted and the tree up? I don't know what I would have done without you." She smiled as she glanced around the room, grateful to each of them. A few of them returned with a genial smile, having little else to say on the subject. Mostly because everyone, with the exception to two, was exhausted.

Anna and Balthazar had just flown in and been busy since. And Chuck and Samandriel had worked until the afternoon. Only Cas and Dean had been able to sleep in, sleep off the night before. Dean had to work the following day however, but that was the last thing on his mind.

"Mother," Cas's deep voice entered the conversation abruptly, those blue eyes tearing themselves away to focus in on Naomi. "You look exhausted. You've been baking all day. Perhaps you should go to bed." If his tone was more forceful than usual, his mother didn't notice.

"Oh you're probably right," Naomi sighed. "I do have to get up early to be down to the church." She returned her son's gaze. "I must look very tired for you to have noticed though. Thoughtful of you to be thinking of me." Cas nodded, offering no other words of encouragement. Instead, he diverted his gaze to what she probably thought was the window. Rather, it was the window Dean was sitting directly in front of.

Those wide, green eyes were still on the tree.

Within the next few moment however, Naomi had risen to her feet and said her goodnights to the younger group. She warned them not to stay up much later, though her face became abruptly scolding as she flicked her attention between Dean and Cas.

"And you two," she issued sternly. "Don't drink so much next time." They both zeroed in on her in surprise, Cas's mouth even falling open ever so slightly. She rolled her eyes. "You honestly thought I hadn't noticed? I was young too once you know." Dean laughed and Cas's cheeks pinked slightly, everyone else in the room joining in with chuckles soon after.

It was a wonder she hadn't noticed other things…

She headed up the stairs to her bedroom a few moments later, Cas seeming awfully distracted, his eyes seeming to be looking up at the ceiling. There was the click of a door, they all heard it in the silence, and then some five minutes later, it opened again and another door was heard. The whole time, everyone was watching Cas, who didn't act until the final door echoed down to them.

Apparently he'd been listening.

Surging to his feet, Cas apparently took that "click" as his sign to act. He turned abruptly to his friends, not Dean, and appeared all too serious.

"You all have to leave," he decided swiftly.

"Uh… why?" Anna furrowed her brows. "I thought Balthazar and I were staying here." Cas wasn't totally focused on her however. Instead, he'd grabbed Dean's leather jacket from where it was sitting on the back of the couch, atop a few other heavy coats. He threw it to its owner, who caught it despite his surprise.

"Because I'm leaving," Cas stated, dragging his eyes back to Anna. "And if I'm gone, then you have to be as well. It's socially inappropriate for me to go anywhere without taking you. As the situation stands." More than a few eyebrows in the room furrowed.

"Well… where are we going to go?" Balthazar asked, all eyes trained on Cas, who was making his way across the room to Dean. In one swift moment, he reached down and grabbed the other man around the arm before yanking him to his feet. He then made an obvious show of looking him up and down before turning to Balthazar.

"Right now," Cas's face was straight, serious, "I really don't care. But you have to leave so that I can leave."

"And… where are you going?" Chuck asked, the group slowly rising to their feet and grabbing their jackets, despite their confusion. Dean too, eyes curious, pulled his on, his gaze zeroed in on Cas.

"I'm going," Cas reached up suddenly, grabbing Dean's coat by the collar, "to Dean's apartment." Beginning to walk, he dragged a very surprised Dean behind him, who stumbled after as his coat was tugged behind those blue eyes.

"Wait, what?" was all he managed to sputter out as he was, rather forcefully, ushered across the room.

Everyone else gaped.

Cas didn't particularly care about that either, apparently, because he didn't look back. No, he continued on through the kitchen and to the door. He was intent on his mission and Dean was too shocked by the forward momentum to do much about it. If he even really wanted to.

Back in the living room, Anna had broken out into laughter, Balthazar grinning. Chuck and Samandriel were still gaping however, beyond shocked that Castiel could act so… demanding and forward. Especially considering Dean Winchester.

"Well," Anna finally found her voice. "I guess we're leaving then."

* * *

**A/N:** In my head-canon, Cas is always the more sexually aggressive one. He may be socially awkward, but once he sets his eyes on something he wants, or feels needs to happen, he generally stops at nothing until he has it, even disregarding most advice. My Cas isn't inexperienced, so he's past the bashful phase. Dean, on the other hand, has always been a more… sensitive guy. He tries to act like he's not, but he is. All his sex scenes in the series are "tender" and, well, he cries a lot, to be honest. Not to say that's bad, but I imagine he'd let Cas take over once the angel knew what he was doing. So that's that.

Which brings me to my other point. Spoiler, the rating has been changed to "M" because of the next chapter, so look forward to that /wink.

Hope you all enjoyed! Lots of love! And **review please**!


	8. Chapter 7: Couch Cushions

**Tipping the Hourglass**

_Chapter 7: Couch Cushions_

Dean was a little too shocked to do anything other than sit. Cas was beside him in the passenger seat, still staring at him, and Dean instead focused on the side of the Novak's house. His brain was a little frazzled at this point, trying to keep up with everything that had happened in the last few seconds.

They were supposed to be going to his apartment, according to Cas…

Where they'd…

"Are you going to drive?" Cas asked abruptly, Dean twitching his head to the side to catch that blue gaze. "Because if you can't, I can." He blinked.

Dean's mouth fell slightly agape.

Ahhh…" What was he even supposed to say here? The least Cas could do was explain himself, or ask, or something. That was, if Dean had in mind what was going on. But knowing Cas, or not knowing him rather, made it very difficult for him to deduce with absolute certainty what was happening.

Maybe if he voiced as much.

"I don't… know what's going on…" he finally decided.

"I told you," Cas replied coldly. "We're going to your apartment."

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Why…?"

It was Cas's turn to appear somewhat confused. He stared at Dean for a few moments then, as if contemplating the situation, before finally some kind of clarity flashed across his face.

"Do you want to go to your apartment?" he finally asked, as if realizing that perhaps forcing Dean into this might not be the best way to go about things. For more reasons than one, some of which being illegal.

"Well…" Dean furrowed his brows, still uncertain. "What are we going to do… there…?" He was pretty sure he knew, but he had to ask. He had to make sure. Because this was all just so abrupt and… headfirst. Granted, Dean wasn't exactly known for taking his time when it came to these types of things, yet generally he at least had a clear idea of where he was headed.

And what he was doing…

Cas's blue eyes narrowed further, almost suspiciously. "We're going to have sex," he answered straight, bluntly, his response causing Dean to twitch his head back towards the windshield, green eyes wide. "Unless you… don't want to…" Cas finished lamely. Was that disappointment in his voice? "You seemed supportive of the idea earlier." In the tree farm, where they'd gotten quite taken away with each other.

"Aye, well," Dean fumbled with his words, "that was, I guess, you were… wow, okay." He brought his hands up to the steering wheel, trying to center himself.

"You don't want to anymore…" Cas deduced, his tone dropping even further, and Dean flicked his gaze back over to the other man. The rejection he saw painted across that face was unmistakable.

"No!" Dean corrected quickly, his mouth functioning faster than his brain. "This is all just so… sudden… I guess…" Was it really? It'd been a while, but Dean had enjoyed his fair share of one-night stands. Though that could be why he'd also run out of eligible women in Burr, but that was neither here nor there.

"Is that a problem?" Cas asked.

And Dean had to catch himself before answering. Mouth open, he paused, his eyebrows furrowing further as he considered the question. Yet, to be honest, he could find no issues with taking Cas back to his place and doing the deed. He'd done so with plenty of women, and there was no mistaking the fact that he was attracted to Cas. He wanted to be with him.

But that little nagging voice in the back of his mind kept telling him over and over again that he didn't know what he was doing this time. Because, news flash, men were a tad bit different than women.

Perhaps he should do some research first?

The logical part of his brain was quickly overtaken however as he caught those blue eyes – burning blue. It made his chest tight and his blood hectic. Hell, it made common sense seem rather irrelevant.

Besides, _would_ it really be that different?

Nah.

"Nope," Dean finally decided as he pulled his keys from his jacket pocket and plunged them into the ignition. "Not a problem at all," he finished, backing the Impala out of the drive and into the road. Punching it into drive, it took off down the road a little faster than he'd anticipated, which made evident to him just how on-board with the idea he really was. Even if it was all very confusing.

Maybe he wouldn't feel so confused afterwards…

That was never a good mentality.

But Cas… he was just so…

Well, at that moment, staring at Dean with those eyes, he was damn sexy. Which meant Dean's self-control was quickly being flushed away.

He wasn't the only one dealing with issues over control however. Cas, his hands lying flat on his thighs, fingers tight, could feel the heat in his stomach as they sped down the road. Somewhere in the farthest corners of his mind, his doubts and insecurities were screaming, but the pulsating draw of what he wanted was just too overpowering. He'd always wanted Dean Winchester, in high school, the last ten years. He'd just been forced to lock the thoughts away because of the notion of "impossible." But now, now all those nights he'd lain in bed, thinking of him – they could become a reality. And, to be honest, it was just easier to think between his legs than use his brain.

He wanted Dean Winchester, more than anything, and he wasn't going to throw this opportunity away. Not now. Not after waiting _so long_.

Part of him was warning to be careful, to think this through and take things slow. To consider the consequences. To analyze the situation like he did everything. But for once in his life, he was going to simply do what he wanted. He was so filled with _want_. The want to be irresponsible, like he never was. To throw caution to the wind, like he never did. To have Dean Winchester, which he knew was impossible.

A fantasy come to life, if only for a night.

One night. That was all he asked.

_One night_.

Because, somewhere in his gut, in his spine and the way it shivered, he knew that was all he was going to get. So he had to act. Even if the pain afterwards was going to be crippling for the rest of his life.

But that sharp profile; those green eyes. The way his muscular arms turned the wheel, smooth and experienced. Those athletic legs beneath jeans. A chest that moved up and down in the familiar way that Cas had seen so many times before, echoing in the back of his dreams.

A star suddenly within reach.

His fingers twitched and abruptly Cas couldn't understand why he was so far away from the one thing he'd wanted more than anything in what could be characterized as his rather short life. Without any thought, because he was ignoring that, he slid across the black bench seat until he was directly beside Dean, their thighs knocking harshly.

Leaning up, Cas remembered only quickly the way his lips had previously lain on Dean's skin before he decided to rekindle the sensation. He trailed his mouth across Dean's jaw, eyes closed as he felt the heat that ignited with every touch.

"O-okay…" Dean's green eyes popped even wider, his fingers tightening on the wheel as the sensations flicking across his skin sent wave after wave of heat from his face on downwards. Then, if only to make things worse, Cas's hand was abruptly on his thigh, gripping tightly as it slid to the inside.

The Impala swerved into the other lane momentarily, Dean thankful no one was coming.

"Ah, C-Cas…" he tried to find words as that hand continued to stroke the inside of his leg through his jeans, those lips having fallen lower to his neck. He could feel Cas's hair on his jaw, the soft wisps against his shadow of facial buzz. And that _hand_. It was drifting higher now.

No, driving!

**Drive**!

Dean's foot fell more heavily on the pedal, his brain registering somewhere that he was only a little further from his apartment. If he didn't kill the both of them before then.

Don't think about Cas. Don't!

Wow, that hand was really stroking. Expertly even, and Dean found himself wondering only fleetingly into Cas's experience. The thought quickly dissolved however when those lips began to make their way back up. He wanted to turn into them, badly, but he had to keep his eyes on the road.

Almost there!

Finally reaching the drive to his complex, Dean barely bothered using the brake as he whipped his boat of a car into the lot. Heading straight for his parking spot, he slammed the Impala into it before bouncing off the adrenaline. Pulling the keys from the ignition, he shoved the driver's door open before practically falling out, Cas's hand leaving a scorching burn as it stretched away.

Pushing himself into standing, Dean took a few deep, steadying breaths, eyes still wide as he watched Cas slowly emerge from the driver's side door as well. He shut the door behind him, those blue eyes burning with the desire Dean was quickly realizing had been awakened inside himself as well.

Yup, they needed to get upstairs.

_Now_!

Turning on his heel, Dean practically jogged into the building, Cas directly behind him. He knew the other man was there because he'd reached forth for Dean's arm, pulling him back. But Dean knew the pull wasn't to get his attention, at least not in a way that was acceptable for public consumption. He had to keep moving forward. Up the stairs despite how Cas begged for his notice.

Practically tripping over each other, they made their way up the stairs, to Dean's floor before they stumbled around the corner towards the correct door. But before they reached it, Cas's hold on Dean's arm got tighter and, with strength Dean hadn't expected, he whipped him around until they were facing each other.

Within the same moment, Cas's lips were on Dean's, who was giving in before he'd even realized what was happening. Falling back into the wall, thankfully the one that belonged to his own apartment, Dean didn't even register how the back of his head slammed, too intent on the way Cas's tongue was abruptly against his own. Breathing erratic, he responded with much the same, fighting back until he was running his own tongue along Cas's teeth, searching that mouth as far in as he could.

Cas's hands were inside his jacket again, grasping at his sweater as if trying to rip it away. Which was fine with Dean. The idea of getting to Cas's skin, of feeling it against his own, sounded beyond exceptional.

Until he heard the front door to the building slam closed.

Eyes popping wide, Dean abruptly remembered that they were still in the hallway. Of an apartment complex in _Burr_.

They needed to get inside.

Ignoring how he wanted to rip Cas's clothes from his body, Dean clumsily reached into his pocket and retrieved his keys once again. He couldn't pull himself from Cas's lips however, that was impossible, so he instead pushed forward with all his strength and forcefully rolled Cas around until it was he who had fallen into the wall. Only it wasn't a wall now, but Dean's front door.

Multitasking was difficult however when all he wanted to do was feel the heat of Cas's skin beneath his palms. But, he momentarily argued, the faster he got them into the apartment, the sooner that reality could come to be. It was with that only bit of logical control that Dean managed to, after seconds of searching by touch because he refused to pull his face from Cas's, find the correct key, jam it into the lock, twist, take the knob, and push!

They blundered into the apartment and Dean kicked the door harshly closed behind him.

_Finally_!

Dean didn't even bother to lock the door as he dropped the keys to the floor.

Grabbing Cas by the shoulders, he crashed them both into the nearest wall, eyes closing as he focused entirely on those lips. On that lithe, sweating body rubbing against his, creating fiction between their clothes.

He sucked Cas's top lip between his own, the thought of doing so, because it was such a prominent feature on the other man's face, turning him on considerably. And Cas, who was still scraping at his sweater, growled against him before lurching forward.

They slammed harshly into the opposing wall, the darkness of the room aiding little in directing them towards the bedroom. Yet Dean had the invigorating feeling that they weren't going to make it that far. His stomach plummeted and he could feel his heartbeat pulsating between his legs.

Cas's hands were under his shirt, warmed fingers on Dean's bare skin, whose hips thrust, colliding with the heat equally pushing forward from Cas. Abruptly, that part of Dean too was pinned to the wall, Cas's hips driving into his own, the pointed friction apparent to both men.

Dean could feel his eyes rolling back, his mouth gasping open as he was ground again and again against the wall. As Cas's lips trailed once more across his cheekbone, those hands fingering the skin over his ribs as they traveled upwards.

But his sweater was getting in the way, gathering up on Cas's arms, and Dean could sense his frustration before it even had the chance to materialize. Reaching down, they both grabbed the bottom edge of the sweater, yanking it up over Dean's head at the same time.

It was tossed carelessly to the side.

Dean's chest heaved, exposed, as Cas dragged his hands from his shoulders downwards, his lips trailing in much the same pattern from Dean's throat. He could feel each heated touch as that mouth went first from the skin collapsing in just below his neck to the chest below. Reaching up, Dean found his hands stretching through that dark, mussed hair, head falling back as he closed his eyes to the ceiling.

He hadn't realized how much time had passed since he'd been with someone. In a purely physical manner. Yet even with that in mind, he was still dealing with a whole new experience. The way Cas was touching him, relishing in every piece of his skin he could get at; how he was being fastened to the wall with every thrust of their hips together, as if Cas dared not allow him a moment to somehow slip away.

For the first time in his life, he was the one on the receiving end, getting all the pampering without the consideration of having to do more work. And, to be honest, he was loving every moment of it. How many nights had he come home from work, covered in grease, wandering into his dinky apartment with hardly any paycheck to show for his labor? How many times had he looked in the mirror and seen someone no one wanted, no one needed? A dirty, uneducated man with nothing to show for himself?

Nobody.

But Cas… Cas was desperate in the way he was kissing those lips to his chest, desperate in the same way Dean was for that very moment. He touched him like he was the last thing he'd ever touch, intently and with some kind of carnal purpose. He wanted him, badly, and Dean wanted so badly to be wanted like that. It was relieving, giving in, and he found he felt happier giving up control than he ever had been with any woman.

Which was why, as those lips curved back up the way they'd come, as those hands found the edge of his jeans, the belt loops, he didn't object. He didn't fight back, wanting to be the one driving them. No, he let Cas's lips come back to his own, Dean's hands strangling that dark hair as those fingers tugged his jeans from his hips. The fabric was rough against his skin, tight, and sent shockwaves through his veins as Cas slowly, ever so slowly, allowed them to drop, Dean kicking off his boots at the same moment, his socks sucking off with them.

He took a gasping breath against those lips, his whole body wavering alongside Cas before he leaned forward and took those lips once again, the sweet taste spurring him to want more. To allow his hands to drag to the front of Cas's sweater only because he wanted that feeling of sweat on sweat, of Cas's body against his own.

He pulled the sweater upwards, asking that Cas lift his arms so he could remove it. And once it was gone, he began to pull at the buttons of the white shirt beneath, which was damp and breathing hard. The buttons were extremely tedious however and Dean's impatience was getting the better of him. Using as much strength as he could muster, he ripped at the shirt, snapping a few of the buttons as he forced it open.

His hands were immediately inside it, scouring Cas's bared chest as their lips continued to devour one another. He could feel the sweat, the salty want, as Cas's hands found the wall on either side of Dean's head. He shuddered against him, hips grinding harder as Dean's hands traced down his wiry, twitching muscles.

Cas's hands became claws against the wall, his whole body tensing at the exploring touches. And as Dean's fingers eventually found their way to the band of his pants, the button, the zipper, their lips fell away. Eyes closed, their foreheads rubbed as Dean ran his hands along the edge of Cas's slacks to the back. There, he allowed his nails to slip beneath the band, to locate the layer beneath before delving into that as well. Hands tightening, he could feel the way Cas tensed as he felt lower, pulling them closer together at the hips as he cupped the finely sculpted flesh hidden behind Cas's back pockets.

Noses brushing, Cas audibly groaned, Dean taking in the gravelly noise as he savored the feeling of that toned muscle contracting beneath his touch.

Hands abruptly lowering, Cas's groan became a growl as he roughly grabbed Dean's boxers at the sides and yanked them down. They fell to the floor atop his rumpled jeans without struggle, Dean's breath catching as his whole body was abruptly released to the chilled air of the apartment. The naked feeling around his middle didn't last however. With haste driven by lust, Cas had ripped his own pants, as well as the layer beneath, from his body before kicking them to the side with his shoes.

Reaching down, he gripped Dean around the back of the thighs, hard, before shoving him up on the wall. Having no choice but to catch his balance, Dean's hands flew to Cas's shoulders, eyes flicking open as his legs were wound around Cas's middle, their naked hips uniting once more.

Dean's hands dug into Cas's shoulders as he was driven again, only this time without the barrier of clothing. He could feel every bit of the other man as they ground into one another, using the wall for leverage to graze their desires together, constant, _needed_. One thrust and then another, Cas's hands scraping up Dean's thighs until he was holding him up from beneath, those strong, artistic instruments gripping firmly.

Abruptly, they weren't against the wall anymore, Dean held up in Cas's arms as he snaked his legs around him more tightly. Lips and breath echoing against the crook between Dean's neck and shoulder, Cas stumbled farther into the room, doing his best to remember where the furniture was. Thankfully, the couch was closest.

Without much thought on the matter, Cas allowed them to drop into the lopsided cushions, his legs scraping against the fabric as he continued to plunge himself against the man below him, Dean's legs hugging him closer all the while.

Lips leaving constantly heated marks against Dean's exposed skin, Cas allowed his hands to find leverage on the couch, Dean's own fingers scalding Cas's back and shoulders with the intensity of hunger. Hunger that Cas wanted to fill.

Sinking lower across Dean's slicked, sweltering body, Cas dotted his chin with his lips before moving onto his throat, his chest. He slowed then however, sliding back on the couch as he savored the sensation of Dean's body breathing beneath him. He dragged his lips across his muscled abdomen, each quivering tendon sending a thrill through Cas's whole system. His kissed as much of him as he could, breathing in that leather and spice, engraining it as deeply as it'd go.

His hands, which had drifted down from Dean's shoulders across his chest, scraped at the sticking skin, the strong legs wrapped around him loosening as he continued to lower himself further and further down Dean's figure.

Soon his lips, his nose, found the carpet twisting below Dean's shuddering, tight stomach, his hips thrusting forward awkwardly as Cas wasted little time continuing lower. He found the base of that shaft, his eyes slowly flickering open as he glanced up at Dean, who was gazing down at him equally as intensely.

He allowed his lips, his tongue, to glide up the protruding length.

Dean's hands found the couch, his whole body convulsing as the heat of Cas's touch ricocheted up through his skin. He attempted to resist the urge to thrust his hips awkwardly, to demand that Cas quit teasing and just swallow him whole, but the other man must have been able to read the motions because soon all he could register was heat. Wet, slick heat pulling him in as he groaned.

"Cas…" he managed to sputter, his whole body tending all its energy to his hips as they counter-balanced the way Cas drank him in before slowly sucking back out. Over and over he felt those lips, the lips he'd been unable to draw himself away from, pull him in and out, Dean's toes curling as he allowed the springing elation to wash him away.

He never wanted the feeling to end, the careful yet deliberately rough way he was being touched by those lips. _Those lips_! His whole body was shivers and static, his limbs melting away until all that was left was the awareness of that tug and pull. Thrust and claim.

A balanced, repetitive dance of ecstasy.

Which was why, when abruptly Dean could feel the cold, he pushed his hips higher if only to reclaim what was gone. He'd been so close, so near to that final act, and now he was chilled, his body grounded when he should have been soaring. Why had Cas stopped? Why was he suddenly human again?

His answer came within the moment however, a moment that was both the longest and the shortest he'd felt in a very long time. Cas's lips were even lower now, breaching new territory, and Dean's eyes flew open.

Like his body had, his mind was dropping back to Earth, his whole form tightening as he considered what Cas was doing. Not to say he didn't appreciate what he was doing down there, but Dean had some ability to look into the future, the near future in any case, and had a good idea of where this was going.

And as that idea formed completely in his head, another slammed into him just as fiercely.

He was about to play bottom in this entire performance.

That fact in and of itself wasn't what threw him however, he'd grown accustomed to Cas taking the lead and had kind of known that was going to be the case around the beginning of their encounter. No, it wasn't the act itself, but the fact that he…

That he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

"Cas," his voice came out rough as he tried to get the other man's attention. It was difficult to be forceful however, what with that tongue so far down on him, and he had to blink away the inclination to just lay back and not care, no matter how out of the loop he was. "Cas," he tried to sit up, his quivering, wet, physically-drugged body doing little to help. "Stop a second," he tried to say, though his words were barely audible.

"_Cas_," he gulped, his voice a little stricter now. But then there was that tongue, down in places no tongue had ever been, and he both wanted to sink into the feeling and leap away. "Stop!"

There was nothing.

Both breathing heavily, blue met green as Cas turned his attention to Dean's voice. They stared at each other for a moment, as if trying to get a grasp on what they'd just been pulled out of. But a few seconds later, Cas sat up entirely, his legs under him on the couch cushion. Dean couldn't tell what was going through his head however, so instead he fished around for his voice once more.

"Thank you… for stopping," was all he managed to say.

"Is there…" Cas licked his lips and Dean gulped, "… something wrong?" That voice, it was so deep, dirty with gravel, and Dean had half a mind to shake his head "no" and let the event continue. But still his own inexperience struck an embarrassed kind of dread into him.

And with Cas, he'd learned it was best to just be honest.

"I…" his eyes fell to the side, his chest still heaving heavily. "I've never done this before. You know… with a dude…" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I don't know… what's happening." Or what he should do.

He didn't meet Cas's eyes.

If he had however, he would have seen how those shoulders had slowly dropped, Cas's aggressive, forward stance carefully reigned in. Because he could see it in the way Dean had glanced away – his nerves, fear even. The ignorant kind. And despite how much he wanted them to continue, to serve the dreams he'd had for years, he couldn't bring himself to do it with Dean looking so… un-Dean-like.

Unsure.

Dean Winchester, at least not the Dean Winchester Cas envisioned, had ever appeared so tentative. Cas realized that, yes, he'd been taking the reigns thus far, and he was actually quite aroused by the fact that Dean was even letting him. But there was a big difference between looking into those green eyes and seeing acceptance versus anxiety. He didn't want to regret this in the morning, though he knew he probably would. And he didn't want Dean to either, whether that was possible or not either. Which meant he had to do everything he could to make this happen as easily for Dean as possible.

He had to slow down.

Eyes closing, Cas ignored the throbbing echoing up from between his legs and instead focused on his breathing. One breath, two breath, three.

Control.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he issued tightly despite how badly he wanted to ignore the "right thing" and go back down on Dean. He wanted the other man so badly, but not badly enough to hurt him. Or himself for that matter. He had more respect for Dean than that. Had more respect for himself. "It's okay," he finished despite how it wasn't. The ache pulling at his body was practically paining him.

"That's not…" Dean didn't appear to be fairing much better as he sat up straight on the couch, continuing to take in Cas's gaze as he opened his blue eyes. "That's not what I meant. I just…" he huffed, exasperated with himself, and was thankful it was probably too dark for Cas to see the blush across his cheeks. "I need you to… walk me through a few things is all."

God, he sounded like a virgin teenager. This was the worst.

But Cas was the _best_.

"I can do that," Cas verified, his thoughts running ahead as he bulleted the process. It'd been a long time since he'd been in this situation, where there was inexperience to one or more parties, and it was like dragging a dusty checklist from a chest locked away in the attic of his mind. "Do you have any lube?"

"Uh… There might be some in the bathroom." At one point, Dean'd been rather sexually active and the lubricant had been useful in more ways than one. Granted, he didn't sleep around anymore, not like he had then, so he hadn't had occasion to check. But he was pretty sure he had some. "I'll get it."

Still sweaty and somewhat frazzled from his exposure to Cas, Dean clumsily stood to his feet before speed walking to the bathroom. He didn't want the high to die after all, though he did fear he'd already killed it. Inexperience did that.

He ignored how his heart fell in his chest as he flicked on the bathroom light and began hastily scrounging through his cupboards and cabinets. He eventually found a bottle that would have to suffice before he jammed the light switch back into the off position and rounded his way back to the couch.

Cas was still sitting there, eyes closed again as he concentrated on his breathing. Dean could see he was doing it even in the dark and frowned before sitting down beside him. Those blue eyes immediately flew open and Dean avoided them.

"I'm sorry…" he sighed while holding up the bottle.

Cas took it from him a moment later, a hand reaching up and taking Dean's chin by the tips of his fingers. Green eyes forced to see that face, Dean tried not to feel even more humiliated by the abrupt understanding and patience that was painted there.

"Don't say that," Cas murmured softly. "I'm not." Leaning forward, their lips met once again, eyes closing as Cas gently rested Dean back into the couch cushions. The spiking energy was renewed then, though it wasn't nearly as rushed or forceful. Cas was holding back, pacing them, and Dean decided it was easier to just be grateful than continue to beat himself up over it. He had to learn one way or another after all.

Better late than never.

He hoped.

Their lips pulled apart, puffing breath echoing between them as Cas allowed his body to relax over Dean's. They were staring at each other once again, their starving need held back by only the vaguest amount of control.

"You do know where this _is_ going, correct?" Cas decided to make sure.

"Uh, yeah," Dean replied softly.

"Do you want a step by step walkthrough?" he asked, the heat of his breath splashing over Dean's face. And the way he said such, as if he'd enjoy relaying to Dean exactly what he was doing, turned him on even more. Yet instead of agreeing to what would probably become Cas's specialty, gravelly dirty talk, something else pounced to Dean's tongue.

"I trust you," were the three words that echoed between them, Cas's blue eyes flashing only quickly with what Dean interpreted as surprise. It was swiftly overtaken by a mix of driving desire and affection however. Deep, severe affection that left Dean quite winded.

But when Cas's lips descended to his again, that was quickly forgotten.

_Everything_ was forgotten aside for two things. How deeply, innately, they wanted each other, and the fact that Dean trusted Cas to make it happen.

To create the friction that would finally bring their world's rocking together.

Ten years.

_Finally_.

**oOo**

Dean didn't want to go to work. But he could tell by the angle of the sun drifting in through the windows that he should probably get up and get around. If he did, then he'd still have a few hours to get breakfast and shower before leaving.

Yet the couch, which had never been what he'd consider a cloud, was probably the most comfortable place he'd been in a long time. Not that there wasn't a good reason for the sudden development. And that reason was lying on top of Dean at the very moment. Sleeping, naked, and surprisingly tan. But then again, Cas had always had a darker complexion, hadn't he?

He wasn't snoring or anything, just softly breathing into Dean's chest. His arms were lazily tucked beneath Dean's back, his legs lying between his own. And Dean, who was becoming more and more fond of the position, allowed his hands to rest comfortably along Cas's spine, fingering the skin softly up and down as he admired that mussed, dark hair.

He knew there was a slight smile on his face.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, in a sentimental place he refused to acknowledge, he wished that time would simply stop and he'd be able to remain on that back-breaking couch forever, admiring that breathing, curved body atop his. He'd continue to stroke the warm, smooth skin beneath his calloused hands and wonder, hazily, if angels had been the ones to mold that perfectly shaped ass.

He grinned a little wider.

The expression was doomed however. A few seconds later, he heard the buzzing sound of his phone, which was set on vibrate inside his pant's pocket. They sat by the door, where he'd dropped them the night before (or Cas had rather) and the noise drowned Dean's smile into a scowl.

He considered ignoring the contraption, instead remaining exactly where he was, but he knew he shouldn't. It could be Bobby, calling him in on emergency because of a tow. Or Sam. Or any number of important things.

He sighed.

Slowly, and as gently as he could, he slid out from beneath Cas, continuing to hold the other man tight as he lowered him fully onto the couch. With only a little bit of an awkward release, Cas was successfully placed upon the cushions, Dean rolling silently to the side and onto his feet. Crouched down, he admired only quickly the way Cas furrowed his brows in sleep, his hands grasping at the cushions almost unhappily.

It was cute.

The buzzing of his phone pulled at the back of Dean's head however and, rolling his eyes, he turned and quietly toed his way over to his pants. Reaching into the pocket, he pulled out the cell before raising it to his ear without bothering to look at the caller ID.

He muttered a quiet hello, waiting for a response.

"You've been selected to win a free trip to the Caraib-" was all he got before he hung up. Irritated, he dropped his phone back atop his pants before standing. Glancing again to Cas, he lamented on the waste it'd been for him get up and wondered how difficult it'd be to wedge himself back in.

It was probably impossible without waking Cas up.

Well, maybe some good could be made of this situation. Dean could have a positive outlook of he had to. Maybe, if he acted fast enough, he could get the morning going before Cas awoke. Jump in the shower and get out in time to make breakfast. Make it all cheesy and romantic.

Dean could be romantic. _Fuckin'_ romantic.

Nodding to himself, he decided that his new plan of action was definitely a winner. Stretching away his sleep and yawning once, he ignored the soreness to his wavering backdoor before making his way across the apartment. He glanced quickly at Cas on the way, smiling once more before tearing his eyes away and vanishing into the bathroom.

He'd get cleaned up, shower real quick, before heading back out to his kitchen to see what his fridge had to offer.

Cas liked eggs, right? Of course he did; everyone liked eggs.

His thoughts took to distracting him as he turned on the water, as he placed and processed how his morning was going to proceed in the best possible way.

It was probably for this reason that he failed to hear the front door open and close.

And why, as he stepped back out into the apartment some ten minutes later, he was stunned by the fact that he was alone. Cas was gone, nowhere to be seen. His clothes were missing too, and there was a coldness to the apartment.

As if he'd never been.

* * *

**A/N:** Ahhh, Cas why you leave!11!1!1! Ruin all!

Yeah, kind of a sex scene. I'm not really a super writer of sexy scenes. I'll allude to them, or make them kind of a vague. I don't like using pinpointed words like "penis" and "nipple" because I find that language to be unattractive and vulgar in this sense. It's just my own style, so hopefully you can appreciate it. And if not, sorry, lol.

Hope you enjoyed! Love, love and **please REVIEW**!


	9. Chapter 8: Honest Lies Here

**Tipping the Hourglass**

_Chapter 8: Honest Lies Here_

"You _left_?" Anna hissed for the second time, Cas's face buried in his hands as he hunched over on Chuck's couch. "What… why?"

"I don't know," he replied hopelessly, his other three friends listening in on the conversation from their positions seated around the small living room. Though it was still a considerable amount bigger, and newer, than Dean's. That fact was neither here nor there as far as Cas was concerned however.

"Did you even tell him you were leaving?" Balthazar asked with curious concern, his eyebrows furrowed.

"No," Cas shook his head. "He was in the shower."

"So let me get this straight," Anna was sounding more and more furious by the moment. "You slept with this guy, who you've sort of been in love with your whole life," Cas raised his head, as if to object, but Anna kept going. "And he didn't make you leave. No, he let you stay, and the first moment you got, you ran away?" She pounded her fists to her hips. "What is wrong with you Cas?"

"He would have made me leave," Cas lied, if only to try and defend his own panicked actions.

"You don't know that," Anna rebuked hotly. "You don't know tha-"

"I do," Cas stated coldly, his tone silencing her. "What happened last night… it doesn't usually happen. Dean Winchester doesn't sleep with men, especially me." His eyes fell back to the carpet, his lips tightening. "I'm sure he regrets it."

Which was why he'd been so intent the day before, hadn't it? Because he'd been offered this once in a lifetime opportunity that he'd known would be over as soon as the morning came. There was no other solution, no other way. Simply put, Cas didn't get to have Dean Winchester. It'd always been that way. Always.

Why would that change now?

"Cas…" Anna's expression had softened considerably as she walked over and sat down beside him. "You don't know that," she tried to soothe, Cas saying nothing in response. "If he hadn't wanted to… be with you, then he wouldn't have. Maybe it's hard for you to believe, but all of us could tell he was interested in you."

"But why?" Cas asked quietly, his insecurities and fear still getting the better of him. "Why now?"

"Why not now?" Balthazar shrugged. "This is the first time you've seen him since high school, isn't it? Maybe he's considered you before now." Maybe Cas's confession all those years ago had been so abrupt that Dean hadn't been able to digest it. Not until after it was too late.

Cas was shaking his head. "It's not possible."

"It is," Anna encouraged. "It happened. Straight men don't randomly sleep with other men. _That's_ impossible." Especially if they were going to play bottom. Society's idea of masculinity hardly encouraged it into their mental capacity. Let alone the idea of being the vulnerable one. Granted, Anna and Balthazar didn't know how things had actually played out as far as the idea, but Cas did. Despite this however, he just… couldn't believe it was real.

"No," he continued to object. "Dean could have anyone he wanted. I'm not-"

"Okay Cas, listen to me," Anna's voice was gentle but firm. "You have placed Dean Winchester on this impossible pedestal. I understand why, but you have to stop. Both for his sake and for yours." Cas's blue eyes flicked up to her. "I know that, to you, Dean Winchester is… everything. But, honey, I'm gonna lay some facts down for you.

"He's uneducated," she numbered off on her fingers. "He's a mechanic that probably gets paid just above the poverty line. He's living in an apartment that's, let's be honest, not that great. No girlfriend, hardly any family. Cas, it doesn't matter how good-looking he is, he's not the pick of the litter. Not anymore.

"And you're an amazing person for not seeing those things in him," she tried to make up for her previous statements. "Those sorts of things don't matter to you, which makes you an angel compared to the rest of us." Cas's eyes flicked back to the floor. "But you need to see reality now, because continuing to hold Dean in that high of esteem doesn't help either of you."

She paused to take a breath.

"Maybe what happened seems impossible to you, but I think you need to consider Dean's feelings too." Cas furrowed his brows, offended that she'd suggest he hadn't. "You hold him so high above yourself that you're failing to acknowledge that he's… human. Honey," she put her hand on his shoulder. "How do you think he felt when he came out of that bathroom and you were gone? I know you don't see yourself this way, but let me break it down for you.

"You got out of this town. You went to school. You have a great job, a great apartment, a nice car. You still have your family, who loves you." Lies irrelevant at this point. "You're someone that, at this point in Dean's life, he probably never imagined would take a second look at him. So then you two sleep together and you run out. You, this person that he probably views as… much better than himself."

"I'm not," Cas tried to say.

"I know that," she agreed. "But life has kind of kicked him in the ass, if you hadn't noticed." She tried not to sound too sarcastic, but with Cas sometimes she just couldn't help it. "He may do a good job of faking it, but his confidence isn't there. There's no way it could be.

"But then you come back. And maybe he's thought about you over the years. Maybe he finds that he is attracted to you. And then you _run away_." Her face was stern. "Can't you imagine how low that probably makes him feel? How… used?"

"I didn't use him," Cas tried to defend despite how the horror of Anna's words sank into his head.

"He doesn't know that Cas," she shook her head. "You seem to be stuck in this idea that everything between you two is the same as it was in high school. But it's not. You're the successful one now Cas, you're the… 'popular' one," despite how unpopular he was in Burr. "The situation has been completely reversed.

"And you _walked out_ on him."

Cas didn't reply then, the silence of the room sinking down on them. He'd hadn't considered Dean in the way Anna was suggesting, it was true. To him, Dean would always be that charismatic, easy-smiling, beautiful person. But that wasn't the reality, which he'd failed to see. Not to say Dean wasn't any of those things, but there were other variables now too. Variables Cas had been too caught up in himself to see. He'd been so worried about his own feelings, his own worries, that he'd failed to consider Dean's.

Because, despite what his high school memory might suggest, Dean wasn't that invincible superhero. He was human, he could be injured too, and Cas had the feeling he'd been the one to inflict the hurt this time.

Which in turn pained him. He never wanted to hurt Dean. Ever. The idea made him sick to his stomach. His whole body tensed at the idea, that he'd done something so wrong to the one person he'd treasured above all others.

He had to do something.

He had to fix this.

But… how?

**oOo**

Walking through the door to the shop, Cas looked around only quickly, taking note that it wasn't Dean behind the counter, but Bobby. The man was much older than the last time Cas had seen him, which would make sense since it'd been over ten years. His beard was graying, his stout if not well-versed posture appearing a little more worn. But upon hearing the door close, he glanced over with those penetrating eyes, taking Cas in from head to toe as he slowly approached the counter.

"Castiel Novak," Bobby stated, neither happy nor upset to see him. "Dean said you were in town." Those calculating eyes narrowed slightly. "Also said you already came back to pay yer bill. So why're ya here now?" He laid his wrinkled hands down flat on the counter.

"I was wondering if Dean was here," Cas verified, trying to bring his voice up louder despite his sheepishness.

"He's here," Bobby sounded a little more crotchety. "He's workin.' Anythin' you need doin' though, I'm sure I can manage." It was then that Cas realized he'd insulted the older man unintentionally.

"It's not concerning work," Cas replied quickly. "It's… personal." Bobby furrowed his brows then, obviously perplexed, but unlike half the town, he didn't seem too intent on sticking his nose into other people's business. Instead, though still a little puzzled, he took a step back from the counter.

"He's out in the garage," he gestured a thumb backwards, towards the door behind him. "You can go talk to him." Nodding his thanks, Cas took in those narrowed eyes for only a moment longer before rounding the counter and heading past Bobby to the door. Grabbing the old, grease rubbed knob, he pulled it open before slipping onto the other side.

The garage wasn't huge, able to hold maybe four cars at a time, but it was well-stocked and apparently well-used, seeing as the capacity for vehicles was nearly full. But, he supposed, when you're the only mechanics in town…

On the far side of the room sat a blue van, the hood propped open, a single man, dressed in the required blue coveralls, leaning into it. Slowly approaching, Cas looked him over, able to see the dirty grease stains from across the room. He was reminded of his discussion with Anna, guilt dropping down on him.

Finally within some five feet of the other man, he cleared his throat.

Dean jumped only a little, his head whipping around to catch Cas in his sights. Yet, despite his initial surprise, his expression dropped almost immediately into irritated disgust. Without a word, he shook his head and returned his attention to the car, his filthy hands going about their diligent duties.

Cas took a deep breath.

"Dean," he issued quietly, trying not to be too perturbed by the cold shoulder. He'd brought it on himself after all. "Dean, I'm sorry."

"What a relief," was the snarky response he was given. "Well, I'm happy for you. Whatever makes you feel better." He hadn't even bothered to look up at he'd spoken, instead continuing to unscrew whatever car part was his current focus. Cas, however, wasn't exactly sure what to make of the response. He could tell it wasn't sincere, which left him feeling a little helpless.

"I mean it Dean," he tried again. "I shouldn't have left, not after-"

"Then why did you?" Dean hissed, finally turning up to look at him again. And Cas could see the anger in his green eyes. But they were guarded too, betrayed even, and Cas felt his whole chest deflate.

"I… I panicked," he tried to explain, though he wasn't exactly sure what he was trying to excuse. Maybe there wasn't an excuse. And Dean still didn't appear to be buying what he was saying. Rather, his mouth fell slightly agape, as if he couldn't understand what he was hearing. Which was reasonable. After all, the night before, Dean had been introduced to this entirely different side of Cas. One that was confident, forceful, and, well, not "panicked." Yet now he was supposed to believe that was why he'd left? Talk about personality whiplash.

"I've never… done that before," Cas verified, meaning he'd never had what might be considered a one-night-stand.

"And I have?" Slept with a man that was. Dean's voice was sharp as he finally removed himself entirely from the car. His lips were tight, as if they held back all his hurt emotions, and Cas had to look away. "You know last night wasn't easy for me," his voice was only just above a whisper. "Don't you realize how difficult that was?" His teeth were gritted, jaws tight. "To… allow that to happen? Don't you…" Growling, he pulled away, fingers rubbing his temple as he retreated.

"Dean…" Cas reached out, as if to somehow comfort him, but decided against it when Dean whipped back to face him.

"It's not easy for a person like me to let just anyone… do me that way." Somehow, his wording wasn't vulgar. "And then you just left, like it was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing," Cas tried again. "Dean, I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry." He was prepared to plead if he had to. "I just… woke up and I… I didn't know what to do."

"How about stick around?" Dean hissed. "How about not running away? How about _being there_ when _I_ need you to _be there_." This was far more personal than perhaps either of them were ready for. But that's what happened when rushing. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe there were some things I'd needed to talk to you about? Things that were… private? That I needed you to… help me with?" His green eyes fell to the ground. "Maybe you've been attracted to men your whole life, but this is all kind of new for me, alright?"

"I know," Cas hastily continued, even though he hadn't really known. "Dean, please, just… I'm sorry…" What else could he say?

"Yeah, I know," Dean snapped, that tight irritation still present in the creases of his expression.

Silence dropped between them then, Dean's arms coming up to cross over his chest. He refused to look at Cas, which was that much more torturous for the other man. He was becoming desperate, desperate for some kind of positive response from Dean. He had to make this right. He just had to.

Hesitantly, he took a few steps closer, blue eyes searching Dean's face for any kind of objection. That annoyed expression never changed however, even as Cas found himself within inches of the other man. Still he searched that beautiful face, and still he was given nothing. No leverage.

He gulped.

Reaching out, he brought his hand up, his fingers pinching the fabric of Dean's sleeve gently. With a small tug, he pulled on the uniform. Just enough for it to tighten against Dean's arm.

Those green eyes blinked and sighed, but still they refused to look at Cas.

"What… what time do you get off work?" Cas murmured, hand still pinching that sleeve.

"Ten," Dean snapped and stepped away, Cas's heart dropping as the connection between them was severed. "Late," Dean continued. "We could have had a few hours earlier, but, oh wait, you left." He'd gone back to the car, bending over it and returning to his work. Cas didn't see any of it however, his back to Dean as he frowned sadly down at the concrete floor.

But still… he couldn't give up.

With a deep breath, he turned and approached Dean once again.

"I know it's late," he started quietly, "but… can I come over? I… I want to… talk to you." Be with him, anything. Continue to apologize profusely. Whatever Dean was willing to allow. Whatever he could get. Because he knew he couldn't be at Bobby's Shop much longer, not without interfering in the work needing to be done.

Dean, pausing with his hands shoved back in the car, took a deep breath as he considered the question. Part of him wanted to say yes, to jump on the idea, but another part of him, the part that had trouble trusting anyone, was still angry. And hurt.

And afraid.

But his desire to see Cas was stronger, for the time being, and, despite how he disliked the idea, he supposed all he could do was say yes.

He had to.

Leaning out of the car, he slowly turned his attention to Cas, who was searching his expression frantically. He continued to sport his irritation however, despite the words that were about to come out of his mouth.

"Fine," he issued coldly, green eyes going again to the side. He was still able to make out the way Cas's shoulders dropped in relief, which only served to irritate him further. "That doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you," he added, just for good measure.

"I know," Cas replied simply. "It's okay." He wasn't going to object to that. So long as he knew he was going to see Dean again, he could be happy for the time being. Or relieved, in any case.

Maybe he could test the waters a little further however, or dampen the flames.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he allowed his hand to reach for Dean again, only this time he laid it softly on the other man's chest. Glancing around quickly, to make sure no one else was there, he maintained that they were alone before leaning up.

Quickly, he laid his lips against Dean's, not really expecting to get anything out of it. So he was surprised when, within the moment, Dean returned the kiss, if only lightly.

The contact was over as quickly as it'd come, Cas leaning back to catch those green eyes within his blue. They retained eye contact this time around, but were still stoically annoyed.

Supposing that was what he'd have to settle for, Cas retreated a step back, retaining their stare for only a second longer before turning away. Glancing back only once as he left, he frowned to see that Dean had simply returned to his work, but supposed he should be grateful.

Hopefully things would be better later that night.

**oOo**

"Dean, would you just tell me why you're so irritated?" Sam asked for the third time during their five-minute conversation. "I can tell through the phone that something's wrong, so just spit it out already."

"There's nothing wrong with me," Dean defended heatedly.

"Don't lie to me."

Dean growled.

Mostly because he knew it was only a matter of time before he had "happy feelings time" with his little brother. Sam wasn't going to rest until he got to the root of the problem and, to be honest, Dean wanted to talk to him about it. He had to put up the right amounts of manly objections first however.

"You don't want to know," Dean fake-decided.

Sam sighed. "Yes, I do Dean. Do we really have to go through this or will you just tell me already?" Holding the phone to his ear with one hand and driving home through the darkness with the other, Dean pretended to consider his words before deciding it was now appropriate to give in.

He was almost back to his apartment anyway, which meant he was running out of time.

"It's Cas," he stated.

"Castiel Novak?" Sam questioned, not at all up to date on what had been going on as of late. "What happened?"

"We…" Dean cleared his throat. "Well, before I go there, I should probably tell you this."

"What?"

"Turns out that, uh," Dean shrugged despite the fact that his brother couldn't see, "that I'm… bisexual?"

Pause.

"You slept with him didn't you?"

"What?!" Dean sputtered. "Why? How did you…? Is that really all you have to say? I just admitted to you that I'm attracted to dudes and that's the conclusion you jump to?" He was offended, to say the least. No matter how true it was.

"Dean, no offense, but it's not really all that surprising. I've kind of had my suspicions since… forever." Dean wasn't exactly subtle when it came to who he checked out, and Sam had seen his eyes wandering to other men every once in a while, even if his older brother hadn't realized it was happening.

"_What_?!" Dean said again. "How…" he huffed. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because you would have taken _that_ well." Dean could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "But we need to get past this," because, _apparently_, it was old news. "So, you slept with Castiel."

"I never said that."  
"I know you did."

Dean sighed.

"So," Sam sounded of caring curiosity. "What happened?"

"What happened?" Dean grinned. "Well, if you really want to know…"

"You know what I mean," Sam growled.

Dean didn't answer right away, trying to figure out the best way to phrase not so much what had happened, but why it'd upset him. He eventually gave up however, hoping Sam would just "get it." He was usually pretty good at that kind of stuff.

"Well, I woke up and went to the bathroom," he found his previously heightened mood dropping. "And when I came back out, he was gone." Hopefully, that was explanation enough.

"He left?" Sam repeated. "Wow. And you… have a problem with this?" He wouldn't have brought it up if he hadn't. "Well… have you heard anything from him? Called him? Or anything?"

"He stopped by the shop earlier," Dean resumed his explanation. "He apologized, I guess," Dean's voice echoed of irritation again. "And then he asked if he could come over after I got out of work, and I said he could. But I don't know what I'm supposed to say to him when I get there." Mostly he was still angry, though his temper had simmered some since earlier, and, though he wanted to see Cas, he also didn't.

"I'm assuming you didn't forgive him," Sam could tell by the sound of his voice. "Did he tell you why he left? I mean, if he'd left and not tried to apologize, then I'd say it was pretty obvious why, but…"

"He said he panicked," Dean sighed. "Which I guess I can understand…"

"Then… what's the problem?" Sam asked.

"The fact that he left at all!" Dean tried to explain through his frustration. "I don't know. I just… Sure we slept together, but it wasn't like a one-night-stand. I didn't…" he tried to push back the redness pursuing his face. He couldn't believe he was actually talking about this. "I didn't know what I was doing, really, and I… I trusted him." Something he didn't do very often, about anything.

"You trusted him," Sam repeated. "And then he left."

"Yes…"

"Dean…" Sam took a deep, collective breath. "You need to forgive him." Dean pursed his lips. "I know you have 'trust issues,' but he didn't mean to hurt you, from the sounds of it. And the fact that he's trying to make it right says a lot.

"Plus, it sounds to me like you… really like him," otherwise he wouldn't care. "I know that… that maybe it's hard," scary, "to face that, but using this as an excuse to be angry with him isn't really justified. The guy was in _love_ with you once," Dean's hand tightened on the steering wheel. "Of course he was… panicked. Give him, and yourself, a break."

"Sammy…" Dean pursed his lips, his voice soft. "What if… what if he leaves again though…?"

"You can't live life constantly fearing that Dean," Sam comforted. "I know our parents died, and the rest of our family abandoned us, and that everything went to shit, but… that doesn't mean everything will. Sometimes you have to just take a chance and hope for the best."

Dean sighed. He hated how in-concrete life could be.

"Forgive him Dean, and then forget it happened."

"Easier said than done…"

"Not if you want it enough. Love is blind, remember?"

"I'm not in love with him."

"Whatever."

"Fine," Dean turned the Impala into the parking lot of his complex. "I'll do what you say, but I swear…"

"Trust me Dean."

And he did. Saying their farewells, Dean parked his car before heading up to his apartment. As he rounded the corner off the stairs to his door however, he had to pause, his eyes blinking in surprise as he caught sight of that slumped figure.

Leaning against the wall beside his door, staring down at his phone, was Cas. He looked completely miserable really, dressed in his trench coat and black slacks. And he hadn't noticed yet that Dean was there.

Allowing his chest to deflate of some of its on-guard irritation, Dean slowly pushed his feet back into motion as he approached the other man. Stopping directly in front of him, he knew it was impossible that Cas hadn't noticed him by then and he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for those blue eyes to look up at him.

Slowly, they did, uncertainty and regret obvious in their depths. Dean refused to allow his expression to soften, even as his feelings did, and instead cocked a skeptical brow. No words were exchanged however, not even as Cas stood. Instead, after a few more moments of eye contact, Dean turned his attention to his door and unlocked it. Shoving his way inside, he didn't look back to invite Cas in, but he also didn't shut the door.

With dragging footfalls, Cas trailed him inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Dean didn't even acknowledge him now that they were both inside however. Instead, he went to his room, flicking the lights on as he went. And Cas, who didn't know what else he could do, followed. Standing in the doorway to Dean's shabby bedroom, he watched with shamed eyes as those mandatory coveralls were shed to reveal ratty jeans and a charcoal t-shirt. Not seeming to care that he was there, Dean then shook off the jeans before grabbing a pair of navy sweatpants.

He slipped them on and walked right past his guest back into the rest of the apartment.

Cas tried not to allow his anxiety and misery to show through, but it was nearly impossible. The heartbreak was painted all over his face. He continued to watch Dean however, despite how painful the silence was, and remained near the edge of the living room as Dean rummaged around in his kitchen.

Eventually, he came into his living room with some kind of ham and cheese sandwich. He sat down on the couch, setting his beer down on the coffee table, and sighed.

Cas remained where he was, standing off to the side, and ignored how his breathing shook inside his chest.

Then, finally, Dean looked up at him.

Lips pursed, he laid his hand on the couch beside him, that couch which was the same from the night before, and motioned for Cas to sit. Hesitating for only a moment, he did as was issued and placed himself upon the cushion. He remained somewhat hunched however, and wouldn't look up to meet that green gaze.

Dean, honestly, hadn't seen someone look so ashamed in his life. It softened his disposition further, which only, in turn, made him feel more insecure.

"Dean," Cas murmured, voice trembling, "I really am sorry…"

"I know," Dean verified shortly, those blue eyes finally flicking up. "I just… need some time, alright? I've got…" he sat back. "Trust issues. Or so says my little brother." He knew he was being more honest than his fear advised, but, for whatever reason, it was easy to talk to Cas. It was easy to trust him, even though he really didn't want to.

He wanted to be honest, maybe for the first time in his life.

"You can trust me," Cas assured quickly, Dean cracking a half-smile. "I won't ever do that again." And he meant it. Not after he'd had to agonize over it all day. Over whether Dean was going to forgive him or not, or even tolerate him. He still wasn't sure if he was in the clear.

"You promise?" Dean was grinning fully now, his posture relaxed, and Cas tried to take comfort in that.

"Yes," he assured without a second thought, scooting slightly closer to Dean.

Dean seemed to consider him then, appearing thoughtful before their gazes met once again. "Alright, I guess I believe you," he shrugged and Cas's shoulders dropped in relief. "I can give you one more chance." His smile was larger then, those beautiful white teeth set on display, and Cas allowed the slightest of grins to pull at the corners of his lips.

Curiosity, though, always got the better of him, and as Dean started to bite into his sandwich, Cas furrowed his brows and frowned.

"Why do you have trust issues?"

Dean swallowing his food appeared almost painful then.

"Ah, well," Cas had cocked his head to the side in that adorable, childish way and Dean tried to fish around for something to say. "Sammy seems to think it has something to do with our parents dying." He shrugged, wondering, and hoping, that such an explanation made everything obvious.

"I see…" Cas murmured. "I'm sorry it was so long before I found out." He apologized for something he had absolutely no control over. "It almost makes me wish I'd been here." If only to provide positive thoughts. Because Dean probably wouldn't have cared whether he was there or not.

"I'm glad you weren't," Dean decided, continuing to munch on his late-night dinner. "I was a mess. Everything was. Our parents hadn't had any insurance, their debt was… huge. We lost everything." His eyes were pained upon remembering.

"I could have helped you…"

"I wouldn't have let you," Dean smiled over at him.

"I know," Cas finally allowed his grin to develop fully, which sent an excited jolt through Dean's entire system.

"It's funny though," Dean looked ahead again. "I remember thinking of you sometimes back then, wondering what you were doing," his expression dropped. "Now that I consider it though, I think I was just desperate for someone to… be there." Love him. "I guess loneliness will make you feel that way."

"Are you lonely now?" Cas leaned the side of his head back against the couch.

"Mmm, no," he decided. "At least, not like that," he turned to face Cas again. "That's not the only reason I want you here, if that's what you're asking." Sure, he liked the company, but he didn't _need_ the support like he'd craved ten years before.

"I wasn't asking that," Cas assured, still with that light smile, and Dean tried not to be taken completely by it. "What are the reasons you want me here?" He was being flirty now, Dean could tell. In a secret, shy kind of way that Cas would be flirty. Really, it was a wonder he could be so forceful when it came to sex. Lady in the street, tiger in the bedroom, or something like that.

"I think last night is reason enough," Dean winked then and a slight sliver of Cas's teeth was only quickly visible, his eyes crinkling at the sides for just a moment.

"You mentioned something about that earlier," Cas continued. "That you wanted to… talk about it?" That smiled was gone now, replaced by curiosity, and Dean found that he regretted having brought it up at all earlier that day.

"Well," he glanced away. "I mean… I dunno…" He tried to push the redness that had risen up his neck back to his stomach, or a place equally less visible.

"Are you uncomfortable with it?" With the fact that he'd slept with a man, and been on the receiving end. It was kind of like a double whammy for someone who'd prided himself on being a straight lady's man his whole life.

"Not… really," Dean supposed. "I guess I'm just… trying to get a handle on it, or something." He had no idea. Maybe it was simply the newness of it all that made him uneasy, or the fact that, though he'd been through one night, he was still inexperienced. "I guess I just… don't want to embarrass myself."

"You won't," Cas grinned again, which relaxed Dean. "I'll make sure of that." He paused. "Did you… enjoy what happened last night?" Because Cas could play both sides, if that really made Dean happier. Granted, he usually delivered, but he'd also done both.

"Uh, well," Dean rubbed his neck uncomfortably, unable to stop the pink from stretching to his cheeks. "Not… really…?"

"Oh…"

"I'm lying," Dean added a second later.

"Oh…?"

"I enjoyed it," he admitted with an eye roll, causing Cas's teeth to flash once again. "A lot." Despite the pain at some points. "Don't tell anyone I said that," which was a stupid rule to dictate, but he said stupid things when he was nervous.

"I don't think anyone else will have need to know," Cas assured.

"You never know," Dean shrugged. "I mean, there's always threesomes, or a ménage a trois. I'd definitely have to pretend like I didn't want you doing that… then." His wit was lacking considerably.

"So you want to keep doing it then?" Cas ignored the allusions to other people getting involved, mostly because he'd never let that happen. He had absolutely no intention of sharing Dean with anyone. "Because I'd like to keep doing it."

"I… could do it again…" A lot. Over and over again. With Cas, yes, constantly. He could totally do that.

Cas had scooted closer to him still. "Do you," he laid his chin on Dean's shoulder, "want to do it right now?"

"Now?" Dean stared down at those wondering blue eyes with questioning brows. "Uh, yes?" Because he was definitely going to be able to refuse that face. And those deep, dark oceans looking up at him. "But, uh, you said last night that you used up the rest of my lube…"

Cas reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out a new bottle, a brand that Dean didn't recognize, but supposed would probably work better for what they were doing than what he'd had. Cas knew best after all, or so he was going to assume.

"You brought that with you?" Dean smiled and laughed. "Even though I was still mad at you?"

"I always try to be prepared, if I can help it," Cas replied, totally serious as his chin moved against Dean's shoulder. "Make-up sex is the best kind after all." Not that the two of them had much to compare it to at that point.

"I'm pretty sure all kinds are the best kinds," Dean assured.

"You haven't used enough toys then."

Dean scoffed, not able to believe those words had just come from between those perfect, angelic lips. "That's kinky…" he muttered, wondering just how much more wild and pushy Cas could get between the sheets. Maybe he was getting himself in over his head here.

"Yup," Cas nodded with a full, happy smile, which Dean had to, of course, return.

"Well, let's make sure you run any ideas by me first, okay?" Might as well set some ground rules while he still had the chance.

"You don't like surprise parties?" Cas had frowned overdramatically, playfully. "I do. Especially when I can sneak up on you from behind." Dean gaped fully then, mostly just shocked at what he was hearing. It was just so… dirty. But innocent too. A strange combination that was definitely turning him on.

"You, sir, need to get your urges under control," Dean scolded. "Your mind is definitely in the gutter."

"You could join me there," Cas replied. "It's nice and wet down here."

Dean gaped again, and laughed. "You've been living in Chicago way too long," he decided. "You've been corrupted. What happened to that dweeby kid I used to know? It's like he's been swallowed by a monster."

"I could swallow you next."

"I'm so disappointed," Dean shook his head, feigning sadness. "Here I thought I was with some kind of…angel, but you're definitely not."

"I don't believe in angels."

"Neither do I," Dean contradicted with a whisper, smiling once more as he took in those now heavy blue eyes. Blue that was dangerously close. Within the moment, their lips had met, Cas leaning up as Dean reached around and gripped Cas's thigh tightly within his strong grasp. And were it not for an abrupt, jolting shriek, things might have continued to progress.

Instead, lips freezing against one another, Cas listened as his phone rang inside his pocket for some few seconds before finally breaking away. He didn't miss the impatience in Dean's eyes however as he retrieved it.

Glancing down at the screen, he felt his heart jump at what he read.

_Michael_.

Staring down at it for a few more seconds, he considered only quickly, back and forth, whether he should answer it or not. Eventually, his thumb coming forward, he took a deep breath and pressed the "decline" button.

As he did however, his phone then alerted him to the fact that he had seven missed calls.

Seven missed calls from _Michael_.

"Who's that?" Dean asked, his voice husky, and Cas quickly flicked his gaze up and took in those impatient green eyes.

He grinned at the corners of his lips.

"No one," he assured. "No one important." And he leaned back into Dean.

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, that's right, Michael is still a player. Snap, how is he going to enter into this whole thing? And are Cas and Dean moving a little fast? I dunno. They both seem to be drowning a little deeply into cloud nine, lol.

Hope you all enjoyed however. Please leave a **review**! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


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